A Forgotten Portrait Begging to be Remembered
by Joliesse
Summary: Follows the story of a 17 year-old Ib, free of the gallery, but without Garry, who was left and claimed by gallery itself. She has no memory of those times, but will that change when she starts having dreams, or rather memories of her past? Will she finally remember when she revisits the gallery, eight years later?
1. AboutInfo

**This is my very first Fan Fiction, so I hope you readers can give me criteria on hwo to make it better, or any requests on how it could go. This follows the ending Forgotton Portrait, and if you have not played the game, then I highly recommend you do so. It is the most epic game created!**  
**I don't own this game, or any characters included.**

**I always loved Ib/Garry, but was a little uncertain about the age gap that may or may not be more than Ib's own age in the game, so this works out for everyone!**

**Ib/Garry forever! 3**

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**~Joliesse**


	2. Chapter 1

**Hey, this is my first FanFiction, so I hope it's good! Took awhile for me to write down all the ideas in my head...anywway, hope you guys like it! **

**I do not own Ib, or any of it's characters, though I wish I did.**

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Ib POV

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I forced my feet to move, pushing one after the other, feeling like there were lead weights strapped to my limbs. Even with the fatigue of running constantly, as yet another woman attached to a painting lurched off the wall, my legs were sparked with new found energy and skidded across the hallway. I was running seemingly endlessly, and definitely pointlessly through a maze of animated artwork. My grip on sanity was the clicking of my unreasonable uniform shoes against the floor of every winding hallway I passed.

I was contemplating letting them have their way, giving up and surrendering, until the man running with me and leading me through Hell gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. I gave another burst of drive, but I was running out of energy. As I saw a clearing free of insane lady paintings or headless statues, the end of the maze, I rushed in instantly. I took a much needed deep breath, and leaned against the wall as the man went to close the door before any blood crazed women made their way out of the maze we had just exited.

I clutched a beautiful red rose with only a couple petals left in my hand, holding one of the few petals between my thumb and index finger. I rubbed the velvety surface with curiosity. I inspected the thorns that riddled it's being, and gently prodded one of the little needles. The thorn slipped inside my flesh, and I gave a small yelp, and dropped the rose. It hit the floor, and one of the petals was knocked off. I cried out in pain, clutching my chest. The man rushed to my side, picking up the rose and holding it protectively. He put an arm around my shocked and shaking body, and my shakes slightly subsided. My chest panged with every second, but what was curious was how this heart attack-like feeling began when the petal fell off.

The man pushed a strand of my hair behind my ear, and held it back by placing the rose with only two petals left on top. His lips moved, but all I could focus on was the vanishing feeling of my heart being ripped out of my chest. All i could make out of his jumbled words were scraps; _Rose...Ib...careful...worried about you...understand?_ Ib...He knew my name? He seemed familiar, looking up to his violet hair and striking blue eyes through the tunnel of my sight. But I had no idea in the slightest who he was.

The man gave me a kind smile, but all I could do was lazily blink. My arms were already riddled with scratches, as well as my legs and face. Who knew where else, so I didn't need a long gash across my heart just then, which is what it felt like. I reached a shuddering hand to the rose in my hair, before passing out.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Narrator POV

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A seventeen year-old Ib's crimson eyes shot open, expressing panic. She hunched over her knees, half pulled to her body, half outstretched across the bed. She breathed heavily, running a hand through her hair. She had no recognition of her dream, just the fact it was a nightmare, and very nostalgic. She felt something soft, not her silky hair, but the velvet of a rose petal. A blue rose petal. She pulled the rose petal from her hair, and turned around to see the stem of a wilted rose on her pillow, with a single blue rose petal clutching it. She picked it up, curiously twirling it around between two fingers.

Ib placed the dying flower into the bouquet in the vase on her bedside table, surrounded by other flowers and several 'Get well soon' balloons. She sighed. Ib figured her mother had placed the rose in her hair while she slept, only mildly weirded out by the fact it was wilted and barely holding onto life.

Ib fiddled with the fabric of her sheets, and sighed lightly. Her attention was piqued by a shadow crawling across the shudders of her room's window. Someone tugged on the old handle, and it resisted until a man's figure was pushed against the door. Ib's breathing caught, and she dug under the bleached sheets. Finally, the handle gave way like it was the victim of a break-in. Ib breathed in relief, it was only her her wacko dad.

Her father, followed by her mother, entered her room, both with worry lines and dark circles under their eyes, but genuinely happy smiles. Ib gave a small, but forced, smile, and only reacted as she was pulled into an embrace from her mother by laying a pallid hand on her mother's hair as the woman who always stayed strong for her sake shook with the weight of tears. Tears of despair, and love for her daughter. Ib noticed her father lying off to the side, in the corner of the room, to be specific, where the sunlight from the window to outside couldn't reach him.

Ib only smoothed down her mother's hair. "Thanks for the rose, you guys." She whispered.

Her mother pulled back. "They've already arrived?" She was no longer hugging her daughter, but a a hand lied on her shoulder.

Ib was confused. "Just one..." She breathily whispered. A small and thin hand gestured to the now fully bloomed blue rose in a mass of Tiger Lilys, Baby's Breath, and Chrysanthemums. Her mother carefully picked the rose from the side of the vase. Ib's breath caught as she realized it had been previously on it's death bed, and now it was healthy as ever.

"But..." Ib was caught off by the sight of her mother's thin lipped smile. "This wasn't from either of us. looks like you've got yourself a secret admirer."

Ib gave a shaky smile. Her father, who had been standing off to the side with a devoid face, the smile gone, stepped forward. Ib hoped he was going to confess he did it, and they could laugh like a family again, but he simply stepped away from her bed, and started heading off for the door. Her mother gave a apologetic smile to Ib before rushing to follow her spouse, leaving Ib all alone.

Again.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Ib's Mother POV

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Once I got caught up with my husband, I grabbed his sleeve and jerked him back towards me, brushing off the fact I was making a scene. I wanted the answer to why he was acting to recklessly and so uncaring about our only daughter's feelings.

"What was that all about, _Darling_?" I hissed into his ear. My patience was wearing thin. He sighed, and his eyes remained looking forward.

"Our sweet, angel Ib is tainted now."

I nearly slapped him. Looking back, I wish I did. It might have given him some sense. "She is still our daughter, and is lost inside herself! She needs love and attention, not a father who's disowning her!"

An attendant came up behind her. "Please, ma'am. You are causing some of our-more unstable-patients anguish."

I sighed, and pushed the man who previously seemed so unshakable from my grasp. I made my way to the front desk, him following sulkily behind me. We were in the far end of the hospital, so we had to walk quite far. A nurse pushing a cart loaded heavy with drugs was rushing through the hall, and paused in front of a door a couple from where we were standing. The door was opened, revealing the scene inside.

There was a single girl with blonde hair, probably only in her twenties, struggling under the weight of a doctor and several nurses, shrieking and screeching like they were about to murder her, not sedate her.

The stranger with whom I shared my surname with sighed, and I could see in his eyes that that was how he probably viewed our daughter. Our precious Ib, a nutcase in the mad house.

**Hope you guys liked it, and I will be making another chapter depending on the criteria and reviews, so make sure you review if you liked it! :D**


	3. Chapter 2

**So, here's the new chapter! This is my Spring break, so I'll be able to update pretty often. I just wanted to answer a couple of the reviews I've been getting. **

**ZarcherPheonix: Thanks, you can see I took your criteria into account. sadly, spellcheck doesn't always work on my computer, so...Anyway, the answer to your question will come in time. :D**

**that was really the only one with a question, but thank you to OTAKUbooknerd-OBN, I loved your review, and to RavenFlight: B3**

**I DO NOT own Ib. (tear)**

I opened my eyes to a morbid effort at a child's playground. I was lying on the ground, but when I tilted my head, I could see various drawing scratched out in waxy crayon. It could have been cute, if the drawings weren't of mannequin heads, and creepy blue dolls. I pushed myself up, and closed my hand to pick something up...but nothing was there. It was at that moment that I realized I was alone, and strangely-empty, for lack of better word. I felt completely vulnerable, like my life was in my enemy's clutches.

I stopped pitying myself and stood up, brushing off my crimson uniform skirt. I took a scope around and shuddered, seeing more of those blue dolls, statues missing their heads, and possibly their absent heads staring in random angles with a blank expression. Even the walls and floors were drawn in crayon. It seemed the entire world, except for it's macabre inhabitants, was drawn quite poorly in child's crayon. The only exit was blocked by grimly smiling dolls. Even though this was the only exit, I knew I had com from somewhere else. I slowly craned my neck up to see nothing but black, endless void, except for a minuscule dot of light at the top. I sighed.

I walked over to the dolls, getting goosebumps on how loud my heels echoed. It really was all that way up... Once I arrived at the dolls that were positioned like guards, I tried to shove on out of the way. It held fast, and continued to stare at me with it's toothy grin. I looked around once again, searching for a tool or something to make the dolls move. I saw a slumped figure on the far side of the room. I probably should have rushed to his aid, but I took my time. I edged my way around countless dolls and statues, shuddering each time my leg brushed woven hair or the polished surface of a mannequin head.

I looked at the man at my feet. Scraggly violet hair, darker at the top, probably around his twenties, possibly late teens. I sat down and shook his shoulder gently. Feeling him stir, I backed up slightly, hearing him moan. He looked up to me, relief in his eyes. "Ib, you're alright." I ignored how he knew my name and helped him up.

"Let's go find that key." _A key? Is that how I-we-could get out of here?_

"Hey, how come you look so tense?" I mumbled some things I didn't even know I was saying, and his expression was shocked.

"You...lost your rose? Don't worry, it couldn't have fallen far."

We searched the room, a toybox, he called it, until we found a pink coloured key, drawn, as expected. We couldn't find the rose, as the man was talking about. What was so important about a flower, anyway? As I picked it up, I heard a young girl's voice from the corner of the room. "Is that for me?" The man's face turned stony. We turned around and headed for the source of the voice, him squeezing my hand seemingly for himself then my sake.

"It's so pretty! Thank you!" In a blond haired girl's hand was a beautiful red rose. Looking up to my self-proclaimed guardian's face, I could see he face, shocked and scared for me, but trying to hold it together. "Mary..." He started. The girl turned to look at him, her green dress twirling with her. She looked insane enough to be the one who created the crayon world.

He dropped my hand and started walking towards the girl. It was odd, he had such fear in his eyes, directed at a girl no more than nine or ten. "Mary..." He said again. "Give that back to Ib." She grinned. It wasn't an innocent smile, but a devious smirk. she wasn't even trying to hide her demonic personality, not anymore. She twirled the rose in between her two fingers. I noticed a smiling blue doll lying behind her.

"Oh, you mean this is Ib's? I thought it looked familiar." So, she was familiar with me, but she looked so foreign Yet, her golden hair and her devilish face looked familiar So did the man. My head was trying to remember, but it couldn't find where they were from. My head started to hurt. I ignored it, and watched the scene before me unfold.

"I'll give it back to Ib, in exchange for yours, Garry!"

His name was Garry.

My head pounded. I wanted to clutch it in pain, but my body forced me to look at Garry's pained expression. I just stared at him as he looked at me expectantly. Apparently these roses were very important, and Mary knew it. Before I could stop him, Garry whipped out a blooming blue rose from his coat pocket-another pound through my skull-and handed it to the blonde demon. She happily handed the red rose over, taking Garry's elder rose in her other hand, before taking a sniff and happily skipping away.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Ib nestled softly into the pillow grasped in her arms. Her mother, sitting on the bed by Ib's side, sighed as her daughter awoke from yet another nightmare, bolting up and gasping, in a hot sweat. She pulled her child's head to her chest, which she resisted at first, probably thinking it was another nurse coming for medication. She pushed back a wet strand of hair from Ib's face, and made soothing sounds. "Don't worry, sweetie. I'm here with you now." Ib's fidgets began to subside, and her breathing swallowed.

"Do you want to tell me what your dream was about?" Ib's mother asked, releasing her from her embrace. Ib looked down to the fabric of her sheets, suddenly intrigued. "I would if I could remember."

Ib's mother frowned. "Oh, honey." She pulled her daughter into another hug. Ib spoke up. "Where is Father?"

"Home, sulking." Ib frowned. "Don't worry, he's just grumpy his team didn't win." Ib could tell she was lying.

From the fabric on the shoulder of her mother's sweater, Ib piped up, her voice muffled. "Mom...why am I here?" She could feel her mother's shakes. "You really can't remember, can you?"Ib felt her mother's tears falling off her chin and onto her shoulder. A woman in the doorway-probably a nurse- impatiently cleared her throat. 'If you must know, Dis-associative Amnesia and occasional mental breakdowns, which you can't remember due to the amnesia.

The nurse walked over, and flicked her hand at Ib's mother, who stood off the bed quickly. She pulled a needle from the bedside cart. "What's curious, though, is what caused you're amnesia. It's usually caused by a traumatic event, but your mother can't give us any ideas.

Ib was shocked. This wasn't what she was expecting. But maybe the vivid dreams she couldn't recall were tied in somehow. "What about the dreams?" The nurse raised an eyebrow. She put back the needle and looked at the clipboard on the table beside her. "That's not in the report." She pulled off the gloves and made a seat on the couch a couple feet away, crossing her legs over each other with the clipboard and pen in hand. " Indulge me."

Ib really didn't like this nurse-she was beginning to lean towards doctor-and apparently neither did her mother. "She can't remember anything about them." Ib put up a shaking hand to silence her mother. She pushed back a strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes landed on the rose which she took in her hand. She had expected the dye in the petals to leak into the water by now, but it must've been pretty decent quality, for it was still there.

Ib began, somewhat awkwardly petting the blue petals. "I can only remember the essence of it, but not anything that actually happened. They're quite vivid, and I can't help but think of how familiar they are. But I'm always waking up in a sweat, like it's a nightmare.

Her mother was shocked. Ib rarely said more than a couple words a day, and now she was spilling her guts to a woman she hardly knew. The doctor seemed unfazed as she scribbled everything down. Ib waited for her conclusion, spinning the rose around impatiently.

The doctor tucked a stand of obsidian hair trailing from her messy ponytail behind her ear. "It seems you are experiencing your memories over again, though it's too soon to tell. But your amnesia, and that nice little habit of dreams leaving our conscience without a second thought once we wake up is standing in your way."

The woman stood up, showing her back to the woman and her daughter. "Maybe you should know, during your breakdowns, you scream a name. It seems you are calling for help. Anyway, do you know a Garry?" Ib shook her head.

_Pound._

The doctor nodded and took a step, but not before turning back and handing her mother a pamphlet of some sort. "I think you should take her to this. Might be good for her." The woman turned it over in her hands. "We've been to this before. Ib, don't you remember?" She said, handing it to Ib. Ib took it carefully. "Welcome to the world of Guertena." It read.

_Pound._

"Nope." she tilted her head. "When did you ever take me to an art gallery?" Ib's mother sighed. "It wasn't too long ago. You were nine." The doctor watched the scene out of the corner of her eye, before leaving the room and ordering a poor nurse to get Ib the medication.

Ib and he mother were debating the art gallery while a poor nurse stood in the doorway. She had much less presence than the wolf of a doctor who was there previous. She was busty, and held an arm under her breasts, holding her other arm at the elbow. "Here to deliver the medication." Ib's mother gave her hand a squeeze and smiled. "We'll go visit the gallery tomorrow, and then you'll remember.

"Alright?"

_Pound._

Ib gave a meager smile before her mother left the room. She laid back in her covers. Her head was pounding massively. _But that's what this medication is for, right?_ She thought to herself.

She nurse looked as if she didn't know what she was doing, fiddling with the needle in her hands. Finally, she looked as if she was satisfied. "This won't hurt a bit." Ib smiled. She injected the needle into Ib's IV, swiftly and smoothly.

Ib's world began to get foggy, and the last thing she saw was the nurse with a panicked expression and the doctor rushing in, picking up the correct needle from the stand and yelling at the nurse.

**Took me longer to do this chapter, but I think it's worth it! Ib and Garry will meet next chapter. I'm already working on it! (I have no life) Thanks for all the reviews, appreciated it a lot! **


	4. Chapter 3

**Here is the new chapter! I made it while listing to all of the Chiodos songs on replay, so I was pumped up. I kept getting interrupted, which is why it took a bit longer than the day interval of my first chapter.**

**I just want to remind you guys I love reviews, which is what gives me the drive to make the next chapter! :D**

**I'm depressed because ****I don't own Ib****...**

I open my eyes groggily, using all of my strength not to succumb to the appeal of sleep. I slowly sit up, the covers of my bed rustling. Somehow I manage to stay awake, and I try to remember the dream I had experienced It was then I realized there was none to remember. I felt my forehead, and it was dry, free of sweat. My head felt blissfully free.

I take a look around the room, hoping to see my father or mother at the edge of the bed to give me a reassuring smile, but no such luck. My room was empty, and I was conflicted on how i felt about it. I wanted my mother to comfort me, but it was so hard to give a true smile back when she didn't understand what I was going through. Someone had given the blue rose by my side a vase of it's own, but no water was there. I pulled back the covers and slid my legs over the side of the bed. I reach out my hand to caress the petals of the flower that gave me nostalgic comfort. Nostalgic, but haunting.

By then, I figured the color was real, not dyed. I had no other way to explain how the color had stayed with it that long, showing no signs of the color even faltering So I just admitted that after three days-more or less-in water and it's hue only getting brighter, it must be real. I was still unsure if the rose had actually been wilted when I first had it, my memories were somewhat fuzzled.

As I carefully smoothed out a wrinkle in one of the petals, I heard my mother enter the room, followed by the doctor, and then the nurse who couldn't meet my eyes. My mother gave a sigh of relief and rushed to my side, and the doctor and her nurse took awhile longer. The doctor took her sweet time, but the nurse was creeping like a turtle to my bed. Once my doctor arrived at my bed, she impatiently ushered the nurse.

As I put back the rose, I noticed the pamphlet Mum gave to me the day before. I quickly looked it over, glancing at some of the pictures included. I briskly examined the photo of 'Embodiment of Spirit', glancing at the blue rose in it's vase. I placed the pamphlet back on the night stand, considering asking my mother to take me later. My legs were getting sore from lying in bed for days on end, without a purpose.

The nurse held her arm self-consciously, much like before, and cleared her throat. My mother looked like she really wanted to hug me, and/or wring the nurse's neck, but I couldn't tell since she kept alternating looks. The nurse mumbled something, but the doctor gave her a murderous glance. She looked pretty embarrassed.

The doctor gave me information I already had figured out, that the nurse had given me sedatives instead of the pain killer, but I really didn't see what the deal was. "And?" I asked lightly. "She made a mistake. You should give her more trust. She may let you down, and she may astonish you." I gave a soft smile. Off to the side, I saw my mother give me a large smile. Many would ask how parents with such large personalities could bring up such a quiet mannered daughter with more gentleness than a mother rabbit to her newborns, but my personality could vary at times.

Another question was riddling my mind. The entire atmosphere of the mental hospital was alot like that of your average hospital. "If I may ask, why is this-place so much like a regular hospital? Aren't most asylums more focused on the 'mental' illnesses more than the injuries?"

The doctor glanced at me with a steely pair of eyes. I thought she might have hit me, but she only turned her head to me and began to answer my question. "It's true we are very hospitalized, but it's only because we're in an area without many hospitals, so we have separate wings for both branches of illness." Her answer was short and simple. I had hoped she would go more into detail, but she only turned towards me. "Any more questions?" I shook my head, and she left the room.

The nurse bowed low at me, and hurriedly exited the room. My mother turned and gave me a bright smile. before she could open her mouth, I hurriedly made my request. "So, can we go to the art museum later today?"

My mother's expression hurriedly turned from shock, to delight. "Of course! I'm happy you finally want to go out, Ib!" I smiled bitter-sweetly. It seemed the only word to describe how I had felt then was just that-bittersweet. I had always wanted to go out, but it was just now I actually spoke my mind. I had wanted to go on a walk yesterday, or get some ice cream on Sunday, maybe have a day with my dad. I had wanted to do these things, but I am too afraid to ask to do them. Afraid of what, I don't even know.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Ib's mother completed the paperwork that allowed her daughter to be taken from the hospital for a day out. She sighed as she signed her name for the fiftieth time and another packet was placed on the table by her side.

Ib was patiently waiting in her bed, running her hand through her hair in attempt to tame it. She had gone awhile without cutting her bangs, so they were more sideswept now. She hopped from the bed and headed over to the sink to splash water in her face to wake herself up more. As the cool water covered the smooth skin of her face, she instantly felt somewhat eager, instead of just mildly interested in visiting the art gallery. Ib changed from the hospital attire into the outfit her mother had dropped off for her. Apparently her mother had been anticipating her wanting to go out for a long time, and already had a change ready in her elephant of a purse.

Ib couldn't help but softly smile as she pulled out the outfit prepared by her mother. She had chosen part of her school uniform, the shirt, skirt, and tie, of her high school class, which was the same uniform as her elementary, but without the shoes. Instead, she had a black pair of boots. To top it all off, her father's aviator jacket. Her eyes gave away her sorrow of remembering anything related to her father. Perhaps her mother was just trying to cheer her up.

The seventeen-year old slipped into the outfit, fixing the tie encircling her neck as if she was trying give herself some more breathing room. She stuck her hands inside the pockets of her jacket, somewhat surprised to come up with the white lace handkerchief her mother had given her. She placed something inside her jacket along with it.

She was much to old to be wearing her school uniform in public, but she allowed her mother a glimpse into her childhood as she opened the door to her daughter in the outfit "Oh, sweetie." she said as she enveloped her daughter in a hug and dug her head into her shoulder. "You look just like you did the first time we came to the gallery." She broke away, looking her daughter up and down once more. "With a little more of your personality showing." Ib stayed silent about the fact she just put it on, and er mother had chosen it and everything.

"Let's go. After a million pages of paperwork, I finally have you all to myself." Ib looked at her mother's encouraging smile, and replied with a delicate smile of her own. Her hands were folded in front of her, but she detangled her hands and grabbed one of her mother's. As she pushed the door open with her other hand, she whispered a couple words.

"Let's go, Mum."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

As I entered the gallery my mother had claimed we'd been to before, I saw nothing familiar The man behind the reception desk greeted us with a wrinkle-eyed smile, and I couldn't help but give a light smile back. My hands were intertwined behind my back, and they tightened, my knuckles becoming white as I smiled.

I looked around at the entrance room, and my mother gave a hesitant expression before whispering, "Go on ahead alone. Don't bother anyone." She looked as though she wanted to say more, but she closed her mouth. I nodded and turned around, walking down the hallway.

I sucked in a breath. As I turned 360 degrees around, it was all I could do not to gawk and point at every painting I saw, like a child. But of course, I held it in. The quiet-mannered Ib couldn't do anything out of the ordinary, or something that would show any sign of individuality.

As I ran my hand on the wall under the plaques of the paintings as I walked, I knew something was wrong. The entire array of the museum was wrong. _But how could I know where things should be if I've never been here before?_ For some reason, I felt that above my hand, the plaque should've read "Serpent's Spirit", was a painting that read "Milk Puzzle". The one next to it. It should be "Glass of Antipodes", but it said "Geometric Fish" I ran down the aisle.

I had no idea how I remembered-or made up- these names, but I knew something was wrong. I ran across the aisle and re-entered the entryway I dashed up the stairs, dreading that a certain painting had been switched like the rest. I passed the window, and "Heartbeat"(Wrong), and stared in shock, my mouth agape at the painting. I sunk to my knees, unable to look at the painting. I leaned on the wall, grasping at the corners of the frame to hold me up. I looked to see if my mother had been watching my breakdown, but no one was in the halls. No noise echoed through the halls except for the sound of tears trying to be withheld.

No one was there to watch me cry.

I pulled myself up, using the frame for support. I took a glance at the painting, using a shaky finger to feel the engraved words on the plaque rather than read it it:"Forgotten Portrait" I was crying in relief. This one, at the very least, hadn't changed. I ran my thumb across the side of the painting, expecting the rough texture of a painting, but instead, I felt the velvety surface of a rose. I looked up in shock. I reached out a hand to the center of the painting, wishing to feel the feel of canvas, but instead I touched smooth skin. This can't be happening. I thought over and over in my head. I couldn't hold myself back, and I launched myself at the painting, slipping through the canvas and embracing the beloved bane of my nightmares.

I grasped his clothes, crying into the fabric of that torn and ragged jacket I knew and loved, letting tears drip off of her chin and onto his shirt. Half of my mind was so happy, so relieved to feel his body, to smell his skin, just to see him, while the other was trying desperately to make sense of the situation. I had no idea who he was, but I felt such love towards him. Pure, true love. But his identity, I was still unsure.

I wanted him so badly to just embrace me back, but when I looked up, his eyes were still shut tight.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Through my painting, I watched the girl run through the hall and examine the painting aside me. Watched her break at the sight of my portrait. Watched her run her hand across the plaque that bore my name. I wanted to touch her, to hold her in my arms and reassure her I was fine, tell her how much she's grown, how much I've missed her. I broke the shield on the canvas, letting her touch the silky petals of the rose outlining my frame instead of the canvas. When she launched herself at the painting, she enveloped me in a hug, but I could only stay still.

Why couldn't I hug her back?

I couldn't move, open my eyelids to see her young face, couldn't force my lips to move to call her name, or lightly give her a kiss on her forehead. It was only when she looked up at me, saw my eyes, tears sliding down my face that she whispered my name, my true name, that I could hug her back.

"Garry...Garry, don't leave me alone. Wake up."

My eyelids sprang open, and I gave her a sweet smile. I could feel tears of joy escaping my eyes, rolling down my cheeks. I pulled my arms around her, and held her close. She had been looking down, too much in despair to look at my face,but when she felt herself being pulled closer, she looked up in shock. Her face lit up in joy, tears running from her eyes to join my own. I reached to give her a kiss on her forehead, but she wouldn't let me, interfering by lifting her head to make her own lips meet mine.

I would've pulled her away, told her she should save a kiss for a boy her own age much later, but I remembered. She was only slightly younger than I, now. Our kiss was sweet, and lingered for a moment. She pulled away, a furious blush on her cheeks. I only smiled, and took her chin in my hand, tilting it so our lips would meet again.

We broke away at the same time. Once she was settled back, we stared at each other's face for a few moments. I finally spoke. "You've changed, Ib." She smiled lightly, hearing me speak her name. I loved to see her smile, but it just wasn't as dazzling as before. Her eyes didn't match her lips. "Ib...what's wrong?"

Ib only looked up at me was a sad smile, before the lights flickered out and I lost the feeling of her in my arms.

**Sorry it took a little longer for this chapter to come, and I'm sad to say the intervals between chapter will only grow larger, school coming back and all. But I'll still make time to make these chapters for my adoring fans! X) What do you guys think of their reunion?**


	5. Chapter 4

**After almost a week, I've finally updated. My brain is going to explode with all the ideas I have for this Fiction, and I want to use them now, but it would be too early! All my lacking inspiration from the last chapter came to me while writing this one. I hope you guys like reading, and I love all my reviewers and followers! **

The entire gallery turned pitch-black, and the feeling of Ib in my arms slowly deteriorated. As her thin form faded away, my arms were left open, and empty. The minute we were reunited, the gallery had to tear us apart. The moment I was spared a moment from eternal Hell, was when Ib was with me. It was the same thing in my memories. When Ib was with me, I smiled. When she wasn't, I had no reason. Before I met Ib, I was searching for something worth fighting for. I had no family, siblings, love, friends. I was thinking it was for the best that I disappeared in the gallery. No one would notice.

But then, something beautiful entered my life when I was at my all time low. A slight smile, inquisitive maroon eyes, reserved manner, and a hidden personality no one's seen. When I have my bursts of cowardice often followed by rage, she is quick yet patient to help me see. A small laugh, like bells chiming. It just made me sad to know she feels she has to be a picture perfect daughter to her parents. Even the way she speaks, if ever, is carefully selected and comprehensive, and it's easy to see how much strain she puts on herself just for the better of others.

Done daydreaming about Ib, I peered through the darkness. I blindly groped empty air for my frame to orient myself, but my hands just caught cool air. I decided to wait until his eyes adapted to the dark, but after several minutes of patiently blinking, peering through the obsidian air, it was still pitch black. I wavered there was either no light to adjust with, or nothing to see. It could have been either, but I could see a distant light, but it looked like it was at the end of a tunnel. I tried clambering over, but the light shrank as I got closer. It illuminated nothing, but I could tell it was light. I tried going back, and it started getting larger. At some point of my backwards walking, the light began to shrink again. It seemed I was in circular tunnel, or something similar.

I reached out again, my hand caught something soft, silky, and light. Hair. Belonging to Ib! I embraced the girl's body, my arms encircling her. Her hair tickled my cheek as I buried my head in her shoulder. I had crane my neck somewhat, for I was taller than her by a lot. I could feel her hesitant movements, her limbs freezing for a moment, before relaxing and hugging me tight. "I just found you again...I'm not going to lose you so easily." I whispered.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The gallery had gone dark, and my body suddenly felt cold. Garry wasn't holding me anymore. Of course, those precious two seconds were too good to last. A hand wandered to my still-tingling lips, while the base of my thumb touched where he had tilted up my chin. A slight sigh escaped my lips, before I smothered it. I reached into the pocket of my father's jacket, hoping he left a box of matches or a mini flashlight, but no such luck. All that was in my pockets was my handkerchief, and the blue rose I had finally remembered to be Garry's. I would have to return it soon. I figured the lights had gone out or something, but as I explored, a point of light in the distance shrunk and grew no matter where I was.

I shuddered when I felt strong arms envelope me, but as I recognized them as Garry's eager greeting, I softened up in his arms. "There you are." She gave a light smile to the dark. The room seemed to get lighter as soon as Garry entered the room. I smiled slightly at the thought. He let me go, and I tool his hand, beginning to walk forward. I noticed he was being awfully quiet, so I turned back around. Before I could say anything, I heard his voice ring through the tunnel-like thing, reassuring me. "I'm so glad you're okay." Somewhat of a delayed reaction, but he might have shaken up by our sudden separation, and it calmed my nerves to hear his voice anyway. He squeezed my hand, and I was lucky he couldn't see my face and the blood rushing to my cheeks. "First things first, let's get somewhere with light." I nodded, hoping he could feel it's movements.  
We headed toward the pinprick of light, and I silently thanked God that it didn't shrink as we got closer. My tense shoulders began to be relaxed, and Garry swung our interlocked hands back and forth, like I was a child. I could only look down, giggling lightly. He was probably still recovering from not seeing me for eight years. I realized I had regained some of my memory, only the parts about Garry. His smiling face. Him squeezing my ever-so slightly shuddering hand. I don't remember the situations we knew each other in or how we met, just my affection for him, and how he acted.

We heard a noise similar to a paint ball exploding, and Garry's head snapped towards the sound. I couldn't see him, but he seemed a little caught off guard. I felt him reach out a hand, where he seemed to come in contact with something solid. His hand stayed for a second, before he pushed from the wall-thing and gently pulled me to start walking. I curiously tried to get a good look at his face, but it was as dark as ever.

Suddenly I noticed he was previously inside the painting. So either I had been pulled in, or he had been able to jump out. It was a fleeting thought as I realized the dot of light gradually grew and began filling our vision, but it didn't illuminate anything, it was just a bright light. Once we stepped through-hand in hand-we could see an entire different room. Maybe even _world_. I took my eyes a little to adjust into the bright light from pitch black, and I had to shy away from the light by covering my eyes.

After a while I was able to remove my hand from slightly shading my eyes. I could see Garry intensely staring at something in the distance. I somewhat frowned. I had expected him to want to talk nonstop after just meeting after eight years._ Maybe he was just excited to see me, that's what the kiss on his behalf was for, and he's just calming down. He's probably just not a talkative person._ I guess I should've been happy, but it just made me sorrowful.

I gave my head a slight shake, and focused on the scene before me. As I realized what I saw, my hand convulsed, and my eyes were shining in fear. "Why..." I whispered.

At my feet was the remains of what looked like a mannequin head, red paint spreading from an unknown point all over it's remains. A few feet away was a blue doll with it's head ripped off, a blue paint spilling from the tear, as well as some detached hair, a couple pebbles, and a caterpillar. A stone statue without it's head was crashed on the floor, it's limbs torn off and kept several feet to the side. Painting shreds, and a bent frame. I let go of Garry's hand, and sunk to my knees. The top of my calf was soaking in the paint exploding from the head, and my fingers dipped in. It wasn't paint.

I clutched my hair with both hands, painting some of my hair red with the blood at my finger tips. Garry stood awestruck. He kneeled by my side and put a soft hand on my shoulder. I shook him off. "Why..." I said, my voice shaking. "Did you bring me here...again?"

All of my memories were flooding back to my head at the sight of the twisted residents of the gallery in their worst state. I couldn't handle all these traumatizing memories being recalled at one moment. A fleeting thought through my head was the assumption Garry brought me back on purpouse. Another was that this gallery was the cause of all the problems in my life. The stare given by my father, the amnesia, the breakdowns.

And Garry had brought me back here.

Why?

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I tried to comfort the girl again. I put both hands on either of her shoulders, and from my spot beside her, I looked into her face holding beautiful maroon orbs holding back emotion, and spoke. "It's alright. The gallery pulled you in again. You got out once, you can get out again, right?" She didn't pull back, but she turned her head to look at me, somewhat shocked. I didn't let the smile slide from my face.

She took a shuddering breath and wiped away the slightest tear from the side of her eye. "You mean you didn't bring me here?" I gave her a smile. "Nah, I'm just as confused as you are." I stood up and offered her my hand to help her up. She seemed to eye it carefully before raising her pale hand to mine, and grasping it tight. With a heave, I pulled her up, then stumbled back a bit, having over judged her weight. I knew she was thin, but she was hardly even there! I nearly fell onto my butt regaining my balance on an even floor.

I dropped her hand, and it fell limply to her side. I couldn't help but be worried about her health, she was so pale, and didn't seem to have enough energy to do normal things. I didn't say anything about it, though. I did something else, however. "Let's just pass. They can't harm us." She looked up at me in shock. Then she seemed to think her action was out of a line she had made for herself. To make up for her action, she chose her words carefully. "Are you certain we can pass? I don't think these are it..."

She eyed some of the multicoloured statues, paintings of women in many different coloured dress, and various dolls by the wall. I examined them from a distance, then put my hand in front of Ib to show her to let me go first. I clenched my hand, then took a step. Ib seemed to be holding her breath, then exhaled when no crazy art pieces animated themselves. I gestured for her to follow me, and she carefully skipped around the 'art'.

Once on the other side of the room, I unclenched my fist with white knuckles. I opened the door for Ib, and the nearest statue, only a couple feet away, started walking, coming near us. The Lady in a blue dress lurched off the wall and pulled herself towards us using her claws, her frame still attached to her waist, her eyes bloodthirsty. The dolls across the floor began to awkwardly hop towards us. Ib's eyes widened, and she grabbed my hand and with some effort, pulled me through the door.

As I leaned against the wall to the right of the door, sinking down as I clutched my chest, Ib looked as if she regretted something. "I apologize...for grabbing your arm roughly." I looked at her with shocked eyes, and then my gaze softened. "You saved my life. Don't apologize." I gave her a light smile. She looked dumbstruck. Ib quickly regained her composure, and faced me with a blank expression. She nodded.

I surveyed the room we had escaped to. Fortunately, there were no animate objects roaming around, but there were several paintings on the walls. I pushed off of the wall, turned to Ib. I pushed her bangs where they didn't block her eyes, smiled, and grabbed her hand protectively. She looked up at me with a strange expression, but then wrapped her hand around mine. If was somewhat awkward, though, because Ib was no longer a nine year-old girl. It was strange holding this girl who was only two years younger than my biological age. My body was nineteen, but my soul wasn't the same, since I had lived in the gallery for awhile, where time stops.

We browsed the paintings on the walls of the hallway. The first one depicted a wolf zoomed in to it's eye, reflecting the moon-_Crescent_, the next some abstract lines in the shape of a woman looking behind her shoulder, titled _Last Glance_. The third showed a woman picking up the sun with one hand, holding the moon in her other. _Empress_. The next showed a man with a knife in his hand, an open cut on his other palm, ink spilling from it. The man's features were covered by the ink sailing through the air. The name was scratched out, as well as the next. The last showed a bleeding human heart in a young girl's hand, a gaping hole through her chest. Every painting we passed, the lights of the room seemed to dim.

Ib buried her head in my jacket, refusing to look at the progressively darkening paintings. We walked to the end of the very long hall like this, the very last painting of many showing a blue skinned-red eyed monster showing it's claws, razor teeth and long tongue through shadows. It gave me shivers. I had just enough courage to look at the name: _Phobia_. I ran to the door, Ib clutching my jacket like her life depended on it.

As my hand closed around the handle and turned it, a resisting click sounded. I tried the handle again and again, each more desperate than the last. "Open, God dammit!" I felt a light weight rest on my shoulder, and I turned around, shocked, to see none other than Ib. She gave me a patient smile, and gestured me to follow her.

We walked back down the hall, this time Ib paying attention to the paintings on the wall that, in their reversed state, were now growing merciful. Suddenly, she stopped atone of the paintings who's plaque were riddled with scratches. Except, now, the plaque was readable. It said: _Sacrifice_ I noticed the picture was altered. The girl had previously had a somber look, but now she looked peaceful...content, almost. And now, instead of her heart in her hand, was a key. The hole in her chest was still there.

I tentatively reached my hand into the painting. My hand seemed to shrink as it adjusted to the size of the painting's hand. I grasped the key from her open palm, and pulled my hand from the paint. As my hand completely exited the frame, her fist closed, tight. I looked down at the silver key in my hand. I noticed how the lights had been gradually diminishing, and now I could hardly see. The only source of light was _Empress_'s sun, which radiated softly and bright enough for me to have light to run down the hall with.

I made sure I heard Ib's gentle footfalls behind me, keeping up but only just. As my hand felt the cool wood of the door, it came in contact of icy metal of a lock that wasn't there before. I put the key in, then twisted the handle.

We stepped through the door, and were met by a multitude of choices.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I followed Garry quietly though the door, my hand withheld by my side as he blindly searched for it. I stepped around him to get a good look at the next room. As soon as I saw what we were to face, I wished I had stayed in the dark. It wasn't scary, just frightening. In front of us lay a thousand doors, each nearly identical to the last. I took a shuddering step forward, drawing my father's coat around me like a shawl. I was erupting in my usual shudders, fits of cold that make my limbs convulse.

All of my memories had wandered back by now, and I was even more silent than usual lately, considering them. I couldn't believe anything I saw or remembered, but I knew it was real. Either that or I was going insane, and my delusions were incredibly vivid.

Once my fit was over, a turned to the nearest door. I tried the handle, but it stuck tight. I noticed a shining piece of golden metal at the top of the door. _A_. The next, _B_, and so on, so forth. There were definitely more than twenty six doors here, however. There were probably about a thousand, without exaggeration. Each door had a different colour than the last, in a pattern. The A door was red, the B door yellow. I realized each door was assigned a colour and letter.

I scoped the room once more to realize there was a podium in the middle. I walked towards it, and saw a small bottle, which I slipped into my coat pocket without examination. Beside it lay a key, with a note attached I read it out loud, more to myself than for Garry to overhear. "_Blue Z_." I looked around, focusing on all the blue doors in the room. I spotted a Z, and gestured for Garry to follow.

Once I reached the door, I rested a hand on the golden handle. I hesitated, but put the key through the keyhole, and turned the lock. I pushed the door open, looking at my boots instead of what lied ahead. Garry rested a hand on my shoulder. "Look." Ahead of us was my red rose, perfectly untouched in a clear vase on a podium, elevated by steps like a throne room. Surrounding it were several blind statues heading toward us.

Garry squeezed my shoulder, then told me to wait there. All his words came to me in a blur. I only barely comprehended the message he sent to me through a note wrapped in a bottle tossed upon merciless seas. He stepped forward, clutching his own hands, and the statues made no move to chase him. He edged around them carefully, taking caution not to touch any. Once he reached the vase, he climbed the steps and carefully plucked it from the vase. He hurried down the steps and across the room, handing it to me carefully.

It was only then that he released his clenched hand. It seemed to calm him down whenever he needed to cross the statues, or the mannequin heads. I took the rose in my hand. I remembered the his blue rose in my pocket. He probably didn't even know I had it. I reached into my pocket, about to fetch the rose. My fingers curled around it's stem, and I pulled it out of the leather, surprised it wasn't soiled at all. "I'd like to give it to you, but I want to show you I can protect you." He gave me a soft smile, and a nod. "I trust you." Those words tore at my heart.

He seemed to realize if I wanted him to watch over my rose I would have asked. I looked down at the blue petals, slowly twirling it between my fingers, and staring at it with an intent look on my face. I wanted to be able to hold his trust, but I wasn't even sure if he held mine. Garry was acting strangely lately. I pondered if he had been altered by the gallery after all these years, and had become insane, like Mary.

I realized that was the first time I'd thought about Mary since I had escaped the first time. I placed the rose in my jacket pocket, being sure it was safe. The only thing I really remembered about her, was when she was smiling to me, telling me about snow, leading me by the hand. I couldn't bear to have the thing I remember her by be a bad thing. I don't think she was a bad person, she was just a little eager to be free, and that drive being subdued for so long then released, somewhat damaged her.

Garry how absorbed I was in my thinking, and stood beside me, encircling his arms around my waist. I was somewhat shocked, but I didn't pull away. Just looked at him with a curious expression, waiting to see what he planned to do. "What are you thinking about?" I calmed down, my body visibly growing less tense. I looked up into his eyes, a little unmoved to see there was no kindness in his eyes, but he wore a smile. He never really smiled with his eyes, I'd noticed. Albeit his expressionless eyes, his smile was always a nice thing to see. I feared my premonition if Garry being changed was right. I remember him smiling with every part of his body, from his body language to his expression. The man who stood before me looked like a stone trying to be cuddly. After all that thinking, I answered. "The first visit." It was vague, but he knew what I meant.

He pulled me closer, where I had to lean my head on his chest to be comfortable. He landed a quick kiss on my hair, and I shivered a bit. "Garry..." I warned. I pulled away from him. I was exhausted by the occurrences of the day, and I just wanted to lay down. "Let's just find a place to rest." I pushed my bangs back behind my hair. He had a strange expression that was somewhat sorrowful, but nodded. I looked back through the doorway to the room with the vase and statues, before pulling Garry's hand from his side to start following me.

I looked at the multitude of doors, and noticed the podium was again full. I walked over, and there was a key resting on the surface. The paper attached to it read _Red J_ I called it out. Garry, from the edge of the room, looked at the red doors around him. "Here!" He called. I walked over to the door her had motioned to, glancing at the plaque, and placing the key in the hole. I turned the lock, and the door swung open at Garry's push. I peeked inside cautiously, then sighed in relief.

I took a couple steps inside, then looked all around the room. It was mostly empty, give a couple bookcases and two paintings at either side of the room, one of two eyes, the other a nose and mouth. Both were untitled. I took a breath, satisfied by the lack of anything outstanding in the room. "Looks like a safe room." I walked to the wall, leaning against it while sitting on the floor. Garry looked confused. After awhile, he walked over to me. He removed his jacket and draped it over my knees. "I don't need sleep." He gave a smile, but his sentence only reminded me he wasn't real. Wasn't alive...not anymore.

**Don't hate me...keep reading, and I will give you a virtual cookie. X( So, obviously some weird emotions there. I captured Garry and Ib how I feel they would act given the circumstances. **


	6. Chapter 5

**Here is chapter 5! I got a lot of reviews, and I had deluded you all into thinking what I want you to! Mwahahahahaha...Just keep reading. I hope you enjoy the virtual cookies I'm throwing at you all, and that you like this newest chapter! :3 **

**I do not own Ib at all. It breaks my heart, but it is true.**

I watched as a frightened, weary girl who had no idea where she was lean her head against the wall like it was in her own home, then slowly close her eyes. Sleep was something I didn't understand. It just got in the way of productivity. Why rest, when you can progress? I folded my hands in my lap, tilting my head, somewhat squinting as if that could help me to understand. Finally, grown tired of watching Ib do something I can't, but maybe wanted to try. I leaned my head back, making myself comfortable. I closed my eyes slowly, until all I could see were the insides of my eyelids.

This secluded sight didn't last for long, as I felt the need to open my eyes every five minutes and check for any adjustments in our little haven. Or, rather, Ib's haven. It was just a rest stop on the side of the road for me. The tenth time I disrupted my own attempt at sleep, I finally gave up. I leaned back forward, finally able to stand straight. I stood up, feeling somewhat cold without the jacket over my shoulders.

I ran a hand up my opposite arm, fingertips touching porcelain skin. Porcelain was a little more true than I'd like to admit. Being born in the gallery, from the idea of Garry, I had no organic materials. But that doesn't make me any less Garry, because that artwork heart still functions.

I sat down next to Ib's sleeping form, adjusting her head to rest against my chest, my arm around her thin frame. I closed my eyes once more, long eyelashes tickling the skin under my eyes and above my cheek. Before I knew it, my breathing had slowed, and I had lost consciousness. Sleeping for the first time.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I opened my eyes to dead weight resting on my shoulders, and my head resting on a diagonal surface. I looked up to see a handsome face, lavender hair falling over his eyes, soft eyelids shielding beautiful eyes from sight. I was right now I realized I thought Garry was handsome. I mean, it was always apparent, but only now, where no forced expression burdened his features, just a serene face, I could see how handsome he really was.

I lifted his strong arm from around my shoulders, gently placing it back by his side. I removed the jacket from my lap, and covered Garry's body with it. I wasn't really suprised he had drifted off to sleep, even though he said he didn't need it. I moved to a spot a couple feet from my previous place, the corner of the room. A couple feet above and to the left of my head was the two eyes painting. I had decided to call it _Sight_. Not a very artistic name, but it seemed right.

I removed the aviator's jacket, and placed it on my knees as Garry had done with his own coat. As I tried to fall back asleep, I thought about what had happened the day before. Or was it earlier that day? It was impossible to tell any form of time in the gallery. I noticed Garry had worn a watch the first time at the gallery, and it's hands never moved. We could have been there a day, or months. Time didn't change outside of the gallery, I'd noticed.

I pondered all these things quietly, as I heard a form stir a few feet away. I shot up quickly, fearing the statues may have found a way in, but I only saw a confused and bedraggled Garry pushing eye crust from his eyes with his knuckles, like a kid. I looked over to me, with a sorrowful expression. "Is cuddling that bad?"

I couldn't help but let a small giggle escape my lips before I smothered it and regained my composure. I pushed a loose strand from my unruly bangs behind my ear. "It's not proper." I said simply. He seemed to think about it for a second, before a devious smirk appeared on his face. _Uh-oh. _I managed to think. He closed the small gap between us in a simple butt-scootch, sitting happily next to me in a second.

He took my chin in his hand, using his other to push back the hair from behind my ear into my eyes(somewhat of a backwards move, I might think.) , all the while keeping the same smirk on his face while a furious blush was creeping up to my cheeks. "Proper, hmm?" He replaced his hand on my waist, pulling me close. Before the last inch between us disappeared, he murmured half to himself, "How's this for proper?"

I froze instantly. I was totally still, but he insisted, holding my thin hand in his large, yet graceful one, against his chest. He held his other hand behind my back. The kiss was long, but not very intense. He seemed to understand a lingering peck on the lips was all I would allow. Once I gave into my emotions, and his kiss, he seemed to grow passionate as I kissed him back, although much less strongly. I admitted to myself I was just trying to push myself away from him, while he had nothing but more or less good intentions. Though he did act somewhat strange, I never could deny his genuine smiles.

It was only when I realized I was in love(?) with the man I knew, not the man kissing me that I pulled away. He didn't stop me. I only stared at his lazily half open-half full eyes with my own regretful ones. I looked down at my hands, at the wall, anywhere but the face that held the lips that had just been pressed against mine. He grabbed his coat from where he left it, and offered me a hand up. I looked at his hand, then his face, then took his hand, letting him pull me up without stumbling back.

His hand lingered in mine for a second too long, and I let go and turned around to pick up my coat. Taking the worn leather in my hand, I lifted up the coat with slight effort. I felt heavier than usual, and as Garry helped me maneuver my arms into the holes and it rested on my shoulders, also. I had a feeling it was with my problems the hospital had dubbed caused by stress. But my recent lack of energy wasn't from stress, it was from being terrified, and lost, and not being able to share it.

We walked out of the room, Garry holding the door from the other side, making a bridge with his arm, wearing a small smile. I avoided his eyes, but walked under his arm through the door. We looked back at the room with a seemingly thousand doors, but after I calculated the number of colours-6, only the primary and secondary-by the number of letters in the alphabet, there were only 156 doors in the room. Although it looked like much more.

I noticed every door we entered had disappeared once we exited another door, including the entrance. I walked to the podium the usually held our next exploration, and found a silver key, different than the other two that were colour to match the door it opened. There were no silver doors for it to be coded to, Nevertheless, I read off the name in a curious voice. "Silver...?" I slipped the key into my pocket, and began to help Garry search for some sort of hidden wall or something that could hide another door.  
We searched behind every wall, looked at every plaque, until I decided to take a break. Garry had the energy to keep looking, but he was getting no where. I sat down, leaning back on my hands. When I looked up at the ceiling, I nearly jumped in joy. I sat up, and walked over to Garry. I tugged on his sleeve, then pointed to the ceiling. I silver gleaming door lay in the middle of the wall. Above it, was a plaque large enough for me to read from the floor, that read _Silver_.

The only problem was, the room was the height of a three story house, with all of the doors on the first level, leaving not even a centimeter of space between. And it was in the very middle of the ceiling. I remembered something else I saw on the podium. I rushed back, and looked at the small door engraving on the side. It looked like it could be pushed. I ran my hand over it, and pushed slightly, where I heard a light _clack_. I looked up at the door, and it had sunk down a generous level, taking a portion of the wall around it with it. I pushed the button again, and the same thing happened. Garry was staring off to the side, awestruck.

Once the door was low enough for us to hop through, Garry approached the door. He waited for me to follow him, and he made a sort of set of stairs leading up to the door, still horizontal, for me to step through. It included his cupped hands, and his shoulder. "You first." I gripped the wall surrounding the door for help, then stepped on his hands with one foot. He seemed to flinch, forgot I was wearing boots, probably. I stepped with my other foot on his shoulder, then quickly pushed myself up the last step. Most likely, if Garry had not been there. I wouldn't have been able to get through the door.

The way I entered made it seemed like a attic entrance, the way I had to get up on the floor properly. Garry easily climbed up, making my effort seem pitiful. Once I saw the room, I sighed. it was set up like the door was a proper entrance, every aspect of the room on a horizontal tilt. The bookshelves on the top side of the room were probably bolted on, but I avoided stepping under them. The floors were close together, but the walls were very tall, from my view. I saw Garry soak up the room, and I tried to imagine what we could have to do here. Every room so far had something to do, but this one looked like a transition.

I saw door lying on the floor, sort of like how we had entered the room. I ran towards it, reaching it in a modest amount of time, while Garry go there in moments. He opened the door, jumped down, and held his arms like he planned to catch me on my way down. I closed my eyes tight, and hopped into the door. I had a split second of free-falling before I landed in a familiar embrace, and was set down gently. I gave him a grateful smile, which he answered with silence. I looked around the room, noticing it had a very low floor. It seemed the architecture of this place had no care for reality, where rooms would over lap, you only saw which room you were in, not a horrible architectural error. But at least it wasn't a pole through the room where it would have to skewer where we previously were.

Garry held my hand, and as I looked up at him, shocked, to see a thin-lipped, but forgiving nonetheless, smile. I wasn't entirely sure how I felt about that. Angry about who-know- what Garry was generally less creepy than happy Garry, though I was just being selfish. Happy Garry also tried to romanticize me more often, which automatically ruled him as creepier than Angry Garry. As I was contemplating these things in my head, Garry had been examining things in the room. I took a quick look around to see it was mostly bookcases, a large portrait on one wall, and various paintings of Ladies. I noticed the large portrait resembled the young woman from _ Sacrifice_, and could be the woman in the many paintings on the walls, as well. The young woman was looking at something in the distance, so you could see a little more than half her face, but you could tell she was very beautiful. She had a hand pushing hair being whipped by the wind behind her ear. Her hair was a light chocolate, her eyes bright crimson to match her beautiful loose-hanging dress that barely covered her shoulders. She had ivory skin, and perfect features. The name of the painting was_ Catori_.

"Spirit." I whispered. Catori could be translated to spirit. It was a beautiful name, and I'm guessing it belonged to the woman of the painting. Garry was looking at one of the books with a puzzled expression. "Come here," He called. I walked over, suddenly conscious of my appearance after seeing such a beautiful woman on canvas. "Says here," he began. "That Guertena-remember, the creator of the gallery you visited? Well, he had a lover. Her name was Catori."

I quickly took the book from him. "That's a book he scribbled in. Apparently, she died, so he tried to capture her in a painting."

I flipped through the pages, looking for something. "How did she pass?" I asked, looking at him.  
" Doesn't say. Just mourns her."

I handed the book back to him, and walked to the large portrait. "So this is Catori." The woman turned her head slightly, and I nearly jumped back in surprise. She smiled at me, showing pearly white teeth. Garry sat next to me, book still in hand. "She looks like you." I shook my head. She was much too beautiful. Catori seemed to just notice Garry, and her eyes lingered for a moment, a strange expression in her eyes. Garry seemed to grow nervous.

She turned back to me, a slight smile on her lips. I couldn't help but smile back. "Catori...?" I whisper/asked. She nodded. "Do you wish to hear my story?" My mouth opened slightly, but I gave a smile and nodded. "It starts when Guertena was in the prime of his career. Guertena and I were two lovebirds, oblivious to anything around us. He was even slipping in his passion. He was a starving artist, and I supported him, but all he wanted to do was paint me." She gestured around the room.

"Eventually, I noticed he didn't have the same...essence when we were together. He seemed engulfed in every brush stroke, pouring his heart and soul into every stroke before I came into his life, as I've been told. Around me, all he ever wanted to do was make me look beautiful, get it done and hold me in his arms." She sighed. "His career was over, because of me. Devastated, I took my own life. Viewing from his painting of me, he painted Catori, and I was happy he was back to his previous way of putting his soul into his work. But then, I noticed what he was painting gradually became darker. Once I saw him paint Sacrifice, the Phobia, I knew he was becoming insane. The worst part was, he put his entire soul into those paintings, gave them life. His entire twisted, crippled soul, and I had made it that way."

Catori looked down at something, probably her hands, not included in the frame. "I just wanted him to be recognized." A tear ran down her cheek, and she brushed it away. "Everything he put his soul into came to life, including everything he painted of me. Those women-" She glanced at the other portraits. "-are of me, but they aren't me. They're wrong, distorted. He made them to please me, so they are hungry for interaction when awakened. " I suddenly felt overwhelming sympathy. She wanted to make it right, but she did the wrong thing. Given the circumstances, that probably was the best thing to do, anyway. But staring at her heart broken eyes, it was apparent she didn't think so. Garry looked like he wanted to say something, clenching and uncleching his jaw, but he stayed silent.

I opened my mouth. "I think you did the right thing." She looked up at me with a devastated expression, but then her eyes softened. "That makes one of you." I looked to Garry, and could tell he thought she did the wrong thing. I sighed No human being could fix that scenario perfectly. If she left or broke up with him, he probably would have done the same thing. Had she stayed with him, he never would have been outstanding, or even noticed, and been stuck in that rut for eternity.

Garry apparently decided he was done with hiding his opinion. "She's a fake, Ib." We both turned to him sharply, but he only gazed steelily at Catori. "She's a painting. She's not human. she could be lying to us right now." I tilted my head at his words. "But...Garry. Aren't you a painting, too?" His face stared at me in shock. His expression was searching for an excuse. "I guess I forgot." I stared at him long, and hard.

"Ok." I decided. Catori seemed to try to search Garry's expression before turning to me. "More will be explained once you go through this door." Another silver door appeared to the right of her frame. I looked up to her with a smile on my face. "Thank you." I lightly tugged on Garry's hand.

Garry seemed to freeze at the sight of the door. "Ib." He warned. "I don't think we should go in there." I sighed. "It's alright." I gave him a soft smile. "Let's go." He sighed, then followed me to the door. He looked really uncomfortable, which made me wonder if he knew what was behind the door. I realized he did. He knew everything about the gallery. My trust in him wavered. I thought back to our kiss-or rather, _his_ kiss-and I sighed. I turned to Catori, but she had regained her original position, staring into the distance. I closed my mouth, frowning. My hand rested on the silver doorknob. I turned the knob, and was somewhat surprised it wasn't locked.

My eyes rested on the scene inside, and I couldn't believe my eyes. I wanted to hug Garry, or run away. When I say Garry, I mean the real Garry.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I stood there, paralyzed. As Ib stared in shock for a second, then collapsed to her knees, I slowly backed away. She stared up, eyes holding so much emotion. Tears fells from her eyes, collapsing onto her jacket and hands held around her throat. She stood back up, then looked back to me. "Fake." My eyes widened for a moment, until they returned to their devoid expression. My lips curled into a grin, and a low, nearly silent chuckling resounded from my throat.

The girl rushed to the crippled, scratched man in the corner. She immediately checked his pulse, putting her pale index and middle fingers under his chin, on his wrist. Her shoulders seemed to sink, maybe in relief, maybe in despair, I couldn't tell. She looked around, then spotted a vase with crystal clear water, like arsenic, then rushed over. She placed a wilted blue rose-with all of it's petals, just they were dried and crinkled-into the vase. The petals visibly regained their health, and my doppelganger in the corner gave a desperate breath.

I wasn't chuckling anymore, I was laughing, it was just too funny, I had to laugh. Pathetic, and hilarious... My laughs grew louder, and I had to cover my eyes to stop looking at the amusing scene, but an eye peeked through. A bloodshot eye, pupil dilated. Through the cracks of my fingers, I saw Ib embracing the man, who couldn't give much more effort than laying his hands around her waist. He weakly looked past her shoulder, seeing me. Once he saw my crazed form, his grip on the girl tightened, almost protectively.

Ib drew back, looking at him questioningly. She followed his gaze to me, where her eyes widened as if she was just noticing me. I saw the blue rose clutched in her hand, and my chuckles subsided. "Mine..." I pulled my hand from my eye, a somber expression on my face. That bastard stole my place, and now the little slut was giving away my-actually his, but still-life. But it was still _so_ funny, and I soon felt myself chuckling again.

I walked over to the vase, Ib and the original's eyes trailing me. He stood up quickly, probably trying to ignore the pain resonating from a visibly closing but still deep gash across his entire calf, cutting through his pant leg. I gripped the empty vase in my hand. I could smell the paint thinner...same as my tears. A memory of me kneeling in the corner, turpenoid tears trailing down my cheeks flashed through my mind. My grip loosened for a moment. The water previously in vase-it wasn't water. No wonder he wasn't instantly healed. "You're a lot more like me than you think."

My grip tightened, and I picked up the vase in my hand. I turned back to the two, seeing Garry was crouching down, clutching his chest. Ib was kneeling down in front of him, her hand cradling his face, other on his shoulder. He began coughing, trying to muffle in with his hand. The man closed his fists, and stood up with a little effort. I watched the display before chuckling and running towards their little corner. Garry shoved Ib out of the way, her thin body hitting the floor hard. Looks like I knew more about her than he did, although he acting in his interests to protect her.

I brought the vase down on his head, but the second before the glass could make contact with his weak skull, his arm intercepted mine, cutting my momentum off. He pushed me back, ht e most effort on my arm, where it hit the wall behind us with a crack. I looked at my arm, curious to see what happened when I cracked. The china glass of my skin had been cracked open, the clay coat torn, and the delicate seams inside my shell were weakly keeping together. My head tilted a bit, in curiosity I used my good arm to grab the vase, but Garry grabbed it from my hand. He smashed it on my cranium, the glass shards merely lodging itself in the clay of the skin on my face.

Looking back to my arm, I briefly wondered what a broken human arm looked like. I shoved Garry off of me with my good rm, my right forearm barely holding onto the seams starting at my shoulder. He was growing weak, coughing hoarsely and clawing at his chest. The paint thinner was getting through his system. Ib seemed to be searching for a weapon of some sort, but she realized the only other thing in the room was the table, and a painting I didn't bother noticing. Ib took hold of one of the table legs, and lifted it from the floor. she was holding it recklessly, inviting me to take hold of the opposite leg and throw it at her face. I grabbed the piece of wood, and I felt a hand on my shoulder, jerking me back. Ib came with me, getting pulled a bit until she let go of the small table, where it came crashing onto me. It didn't tackle me down, but occupied me longer enough for Garry to punch me in the head, my cranium snapping to the side.

My query on what a broken arm looked like once again popped into my head. "Let's find out, shall we?" I muttered to myself. When my head turned back into place, I looked at Garry for a second, before quickly grabbing his arm and twisting it to a grotesque angle before he could react. He was now back to me to avoid his arm snapping in half, bu ta sound of bones cracking sounded through the room anyway, followed by a muffled scream of pain. I held my hand over his mouth. "You don;t have to be so loud, you know." I hissed.

The previously useless Ib was once again holding the table, but now that Garry was in my grasp, I had no way to defend myself. She suddenly didn't seem so harmless. The table came down upon my head, and wood snapping was the last thing I heard.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I wasn't sure what to do after knocking Garry-Fake Garry- out, but Garry looked like he was in a lot of pain, so I tried to help him out of the room. He was in a near comatose state, but he looked at me with a loving gaze as I tried to find a way to take him somewhere safe without injuring him in the process. Finally, I decided to put his good arm over my shoulder, making sure it didn't slip off with one hand, my other holding him by his waist to me. I tried lifting him up, but he was really heavy, and I was already drained of energy from heaving the table with enough force to knock someone out onto Fake's head. L

I drew a breath, my reassurance Garry's patient and helpful eyes, although his expression was pained, and attempted to lift him up again. I managed to lift him enough so I could walk him out of the room. Thankfully, he had enough energy of his own to weakly support some his weight on his legs. I took a shaky step forward, and his legs trailed behind him, just holding him enough so we didn't crash. The process repeated, me hoping to find Catori had given us another door. I opened the door with the hand that was still holding Garry's hand weakly, by a pinkie, and the door swung open. We stepped through, me leading is sideways so both of us could go through. "Ib..." Garry weakly breathed. I looked down to him, giving him a trying-to-be-strong smile. "Just a minute." We left the room with the framed blank canvas behind us.

Once I saw the room, I inhaled sharply. Catori's painting had red paint dripping from her eyes, her neck, her chest. _Tell-Tale_ her plaque read. I only could mourn for a moment, before I leapt into action. I looked around the room, where I saw the Ladies were missing. They were scattered about the room, all coming after us. Catori's frame was slightly open, pushed from the wall like the other side was connected by a hinge like a door. I opened it all the way, seeing a hallway inside the frame, a silver door at the end of it, and a vase of water beside. _Garry..._

I helped Garry up into the frame that lay a foot from the ground, then crawled up myself. The Ladies were just behind us, and I knew from past experiences they had the ability to jump. I pulled the painting closed, leaving us in the dark. I heard Garry rustle through his coat, probably searching for the lighter I had to take to burn Mary. I kept my mouth shut, but a feeling of guilt overwhelmed me. After finding the lighter in my skirt pocket, I had shown it to my mother, who took it from me in an instant. I guessed she had thrown it out, or stashed it.

I clutched Garry's rose in my hand inside my coat pocket. The stem was snapped in half, but still connected. Only a few of the petals were still holding on. "Wait a moment." I walked to the end of the hallway, my hand trailing the wall. Soon my knee bumped into something, and my hands searched it's surface. A finger touched a cool vase, and I gave it a sniff. Water. I gave a breath of relief, then dropped Garry's rose inside. I waited a moment, hearing him shift in the corner. I took the rose out, and as I turned, around my hand brushed his stomach.. "Ib? You there?" He questioned. I smiled through the dark. "I'm not." I giggled at the old joke. I heard a soft laugh come from his chest. At least he had softened up to the joke.

He drew me into a hug, me stiffly freezing up at first, but then welcoming his hug. "I missed you." I spoke into his jacket. "I missed you two. You've grown up." There was sorrow in his voice. We hugged for a while longer, just enjoying the heat of each other's bodies. He seemed desprate for warmth, an dI was just grateful for affection. I pulled away softly, signifying we had to move forward. He grabbed my hand, probably pricking his fingers on the thorns of the rose. We held his life together.

"Let's go." He said, and I couldn't help but smile.

**So? Eh? Eh? I still have a few surprises, so just sit tight!**

**I love all of my reviews and story followers, so make sure if you like my story, you let me know! I'm hoping for 15 followers and 15 reviews by next chapter, so that's just two more followers and one more review! **


	7. Chapter 6

**Thank you to everyone following, reviewing, and favouriting this story! You are my drive, my inspiration, my muse! You, and yummy foods. :3**

**Yet again, I do not own Ib, and I'm not even sure if I have to say this but I'm just gonna be safe, than sorry. **

_I break from the hug, looking down at the girl in my arms. Light flooded into the room, illuminating an empty white hallway as well as the face in front of me. It wasn't Ib, but Mary. I pushed her from me, and backed away a few feet. She had a sorrowful look on her face, before it was replaced with a snide expression. I ran a hand through my hair, my breathing returning to normal slowly. I had just hugged_ Mary. _The insane painting Ib burned...wasn't she supposed to be dead?_

_I noticed she had some burn marks on her arms and legs that could never be healed. She had changed. She shouldn't have changed. Her blonde hair had grown, but her eyes had remained piercing, no matter her age. Her body had matured as well, and she looked to be around Ib's age, maybe older. I had never figured out Mary's age, but she couldn't have been much older than Ib._ She was supposed to be _dead. I kept telling myself._ So why is she here, in the flesh? Grown up, no less!*

_Mary chuckled a bit. "You have no reason to be afraid of me, Stranger. My name is Mary." _Why is she introducing herself?

_"Mary, stop messing around. It's me, Garry. The one you killed." She clucked her tongue. "You're not Garry. Your name's forgotten. Plus, Garry's alive." She said something under her breath that sounded like, "Now, anyway." Mary took my hand. I was too shocked by her statement to even react. What did she mean, I'm not Garry? Mary led me to another white hallway, this one with a series of moving paintings on one wall, headless statues resting on the other. She led me through them, and I couldn't help but notice how she was acting normal. It seemed she wanted to help me. I scowled at my thought. _

_"Garry's spirit was given one last request as his soul was eaten by the gallery. He chose to reach Ib, once she was ready, but all he could do was send her something, not talk to her. So he sent his rose." Her face contorted at saying Ib's name. She gestured to a painting that showed Ib with a blue rose in her hair. My blue rose. "Mary, I never did that." Her grip on my hand tightened. "Garry did. And look where it's got him." I sighed. "I'm Garry. The gallery isn't alive, either." She turned to me. _

_"How do you think Ib has Garry's rose, or how all the art is animate?" She looked at me expectantly. I turned away. Suddenly my hand in hers felt...wrong. I tried to wriggle away, but her grip tightened. She dragged me to another painting. It showed Ib and I, embracing in an empty hallway. "That never happened." She shook her head. "That's the present." I ripped my hand away from her. "Mary, for the last time, I'm right here." I heard her sigh. "That's too bad. I had high hopes for you. You need to accept the fact that you're just a painting." She turned around, and the statues on the wall all took a step, then another. _

_"Just a painting, like me."_

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I turned the door knob, just hoping what lied ahead was safe. As I pushed the door open, I saw a white hallway. Entirely empty, except for three paintings on the wall. I walked up to the first, Garry trailing behind me while holding my hand. The first showed me in the hospital bed, a few days ago, waking up with the rose petal in my hair. Garry studied it. "You were in a hospital?" I looked down to my hands. "Mental." I he looked to me, and gave my hand a squeeze. I loved how he always seemed to understand what was on my mind.

We walked to the next, which showed the scene right then, me and Garry looking at the painting, which just kept going deeper. My arm shuddered, and I turned my head. The Ib in the painting turned her head, and I thought it might've been a mirror. I saw Garry's shocked expression in the frame. I lead Garry out f the frame, but it just followed us. I closed my eyes, shook my head, and tried not to let it get to my head, like the rest of the gallery.

The last painting was unfinished, but it showed Garry shaking hands with... Garry. Would we be meeting Fake again soon? I looked at Garry with a strange expression. I realized on the frame were tiny lettering that nearly blended with the decals of the frame. Garry and Garry said _Future_. I moved to the mirror frame. _Present_. That scarily explained things. Without looking, I knew the first read: _Past_.

I turned my back to the paintings, Garry releasing my hand from his grasp. I walked to the door, trying the handle. It was locked. "So these paintings show our past, present, and future. How is that supposed to help us open the door?" I folded my arms, then stood in front of Future. It showed Garry, and I'm guessing the fake, but I was no where to be seen. I groped the frame, hoping for a switch or something. I felt something round, but empty in the middle. I grasped it, and pulled my hand back. In my hand was the handle of a key.

I ran to the Present painting, and searched in the same spot. I got the neck of the key, and when I pushed the two pieces together, they stuck like glue. Garry checked the Past, and handed me the teeth of the key. Putting them all together, on the other side of the hallway, a door formed. It wasn't sliver, like most of the rest, but gold. I walked to the silver door, and put the key in. Garry checked the gold door, and both of them opened, but not entirely.

"Which one should we go through?" Garry mused.

I looked down at my hand resting on the doorknob. "Maybe we should split ways." I offered.

Garry's face froze. He turned on his heel and walked to me. He rested his hands on my shoulders, spun me around to look at him, and put his forehead on mine. "Ib, we are most definitely not splitting up. I have to-make sure you don't do anything stupid." His cheeks flushed as he realized what he had done, but didn't pull his head away. His expression looked pained, and I nodded, just for his sake.

"Maybe we should go through the gold door." I said, pulling my head back and looking past him to the gold door. His shoulders relaxed, and he looked serene as he took my hand and said, "Yeah. Let's go."

I squeezed his hand, and led him to the golden door. His hand rested on the handle, before he pulled back. "It's...cold." His eyes showed fear, and some nostalgia. I flashed him a soft smile. "It's alright." I had a feeling he was remembering the room with all the dolls. The handle was always strangely cold. "I won't let you go insane, if there are any dolls in there."

He looked as if he hadn't heard me. "Maybe we should go through the silver.." He trailed off. I sighed, and turned the doorknob, revealing the room inside. It was a large room, the walls a yellow-gold. There were separate three rooms in sight, only a single vase in the center of the room. I felt a shake from Garry's hand, and I flashed him a smile. "See?" I dropped his hand, and took a step in the room, looking around. My face grew pale as I saw a single mannequin head by the door. I took a gulp, then took another step. Garry followed me through the door, and his face reflected mine as he spotted the head on the floor.

"Let's check the entire place out." I said, grabbing Garry's hand again. I had basically put all my trust in him, I felt. I could trust this man with my life, even though he had trouble managing his own. Somehow, I knew he would never let me fall, figuratively, and literally if it ever came to it. He's already sacrificed himself. My face fell at the memory.

We walked down the hall, to the room closest to us. Garry opened the door, and inside were two headless statues, both a man and woman version, and the portrait of my mother and father. "Dad..." Garry just looked it the portrait in awe. Not awe, necessarily, but not shock, either. More of a combination. I simply looked at it in sadness. I had no idea how the gallery knew about my parents, but this was the second time I've seen the painting.

"He's looking for the good parents he never had in yours." Said a voice. It was then, I realized, the two statues were moving, ever so slightly. Chests rising and falling, delicately. They were holding each other like a married couple. They had no head, there fore no facial expressions, but by their posture, I could see they were sad. "What?" I questioned. Garry seemed to accept that they were speaking, and kept silent.

"His mother died when he was young, and he never knew his father. That's why he created us, the idol parental figures to him. He couldn't remember his mother's face, and knew seen his father's, so he excluded that part." A feminine voice explained. "So, he took you from your parents, to try and claim your parents as well. To have as his own."

I looked at her in query. "_He_ is Guertena, right?" I asked. I saw her neck nod a bit. "Does he still run this gallery?" I might as well get all of the information I didn't ask Catori from these two. a male voice spoke up this time. "No, but his spirit does. He put his spirit in most everything he did, which is why we're all alive. His spirit is our life force.

"Here." The feminine voice said. The woman statue held out her hand, with a silver key in it. "Save our sons, please." They both spoke. _Sons?_ I took the key from her hand and turned to Garry. He had a determined expression. "What do you mean by sons, plural?" The statues didn't reply, and their moves stiffened, until they stayed still altogether.

"I guess we'll never know until we find out." I said. I led Garry from the room. He was reluctant at first, but he eventually followed me. He walked me to the closest room, to the right of us. they were separated by a hallway, and in the middle was the vase. at the end of the hallway was the last room. I watched as Garry opened the door, and ignored the pitting of my stomach. As I looked at his face, he seemed too have the same uneasiness, too.

My eyes fell upon the maze inside of the room. My stomach dropped. There was a crouched figure in the corner in a mass of shattered glass, who lifted it's head as we opened the door. Garry leapt back, but I pulled him into the maze with me. I heard the figure scrambling after us, and I took a moment to look at our attacker. I saw a strikingly handsome man, with bruises covering his body. To top it all off, he had a gaping hole through his chest. I drew a breath. He may have been as handsome as Garry, possibly more, with bedraggled brown hair that cascaded into his royal purple eyes, which bore a needy expression, as well as strong features. But, he also had knife in his hand.

Despite his appearance, he was probably pretty dangerous, but I couldn't help but slow down. Garry saw what I was doing, and picked me up bridal style. He seemed to have a hurt expression on his face. "It's a trap." My cheeks flushed, and suddenly, looking up at Garry, I realized the man chasing us was nothing compared to him. I figured it may have been some ploy to lure people to him, then he killed them. I never felt so lucky to have Garry with me. But then I remembered something the statues said. "_Our sons_"

I called out to Garry. "I think he's Guertena's brother!" The man chasing us stopped in his steps, and Garry slowed down as well, as if to see what happened. "That's right, isn't it?" I looked him over, and Garry let me down. "I'm guessing you seduced Catori, or someone he loved before her?" His head tilted like a confused dog. "Who is Catori? But, yea, someone he loved." _He looks sad, and he must've died before they were together, I thought. "Catori and your_ brother were in love." I said. He looked serene. "I guess I helped him find his true love." He looked so happy, I decided to not tell him the rest of the story. Guertena had lost so many people to suicide, related to him. It made me sad.

Garry turned to me. "How did you figure that out? And who is Catori?" I noticed he had a protective hand around my waist. He was intimidated by him, now. "Guertena had a brother, and just after we meet his statue parents, we meet his painting brother. And, the knife through his chest gave me another hint. I pieced it all together." I crossed my arms. "Catori was the Lady in Red, who turned out to be Guertena's lover. " I explained. It felt weird to talk so much.

I noticed we were at the end of the maze, and there was a single pedestal. I walked over, feeling two sets of eyes trailing me. On the pedestal was another silver key. "Another key." I called out. When I walked back to them, the man was missing. "Where'd he go?" I asked. Garry turned around, as if just noticing he was missing. I chuckled a bit. "I guess we're done here, then." He said. I nodded then took his hand and we walked back to the beginning of the maze.

We walked out of the door, Garry seemed pretty drained of energy. I gave his hand a squeeze, and his face turned from a depressed scowl, to a shocked stare, then softened into a smile. I loved how his body changed with his emotions. We headed towards the last room, passing the vase as we went. I looked at Garry curiously. He shrugged, and said, "Might as well, to be safe." I pulled out his rose, but after rooting through my pocket, I couldn't find mine. I checked my other pocket, the skirt pockets, my ear, but it was missing. I handed Garry his, and he waited for me to pull out mine.

"Where's your rose?" He asked edgily. One look at my face, and he gave me a smile. "We'll find it." I stayed silent, until I looked at him. "I don't want to lose you again." I said shakily. Our eyes locked, and he gave me a reassuring grin. "You won't." He held up his pinkie finger. I gave a chuckle, and held up my own, but it wavered in front of his. "Promise?" He interlocked my pinkie finger with his own, but not before saying, "I cross my heart." Before I could turn away and continue walking, I felt something soft brush my lips, and Garry's face blocking my sight. I froze at first, and then Garry pressed his lips into mine again, this time more than a flutter of a kiss.

I kissed him back, knowing he was real, because it felt right, and real. He held his hand in the small of my back, the other cradling my face. I pulled away, looked at his understanding blue eyes. "Yeah, we should get going, huh?" I gave him a smile, and a nod. I was afraid to fall in love with him, and then have him be ripped away from me again. I wasn't even sure if I was even capable of love, I'd never even told my parents I loved them. I was somewhat afraid that I was, also.

Garry took my hand, and led me to the last room. inside was a marble mannequin, different from the rest, the same material as the mannequin heads, and missing it's head. Around the room were those portraits that resembled the heads, but no actual mannequin heads in the room. "Bring me my head..." It called. I looked to Garry. "Should we give it the mannequin head at the entrance?" He nodded, and we left the room.

Once we came back, Garry was holding the marble mannequin head in his hands, being extra careful like it was a human child. I opened the door, and Garry slowly passed through, then placed it on top of the body. The hand lifted up, and both of us took a step back. in it's hand, was a silver key. I took it and placed it with the others. "I think that's all we can do here. Should we go back to the silver door?" Garry said, and I nodded.

We headed back to the forked path, where Garry and I nearly parted ways. We opened the silver door together, to see another door, with three silver locks. I handed Garry a key, and he placed it in a lock as I put in the other two. Fortunately, all were identical, so no special ordering was needed. The door gave a click, and swung open on it's own, and inside was an open safe. Garry and I backed up to avoid being hit by the swinging door, and I froze as I saw the person slumped in the corner of the jail cell-like room. "Garry?" I called. "What?" Said Garry from my side.

"Not you, the other one."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I opened my eyes at Ib calling out my name, only to see her and myself when I looked. _What?_ I looked at myself, considering mind transplant or something, but when my hand pulled lavender hair past my scarred eye and into sight of my good eye, I relaxed. I heard Ib draw a breath, and I arranged my hair back onto my eye. I had forgotten entirely that there were other people, well, Ib, the doppelganger probably already knew about that.

"Ib." I stood up, coming to Ib for an embrace. She simply clung to the reflection of me eyeing me uneasily. "Ib...why can't you see..?" Memories of Mary trying make me understand the fact I was just Garry's portrait flooded back into my head. "I guess he's not a fake, but neither am I." I tried. Both of them just looked at me with the same expression. I walked to the entrance of the cell, and sat down, my legs hanging over the side. I noticed how my doppelganger stepped back, but not Ib.

"I guess I'm the painting of Garry but I have a soul, because of Ib's spirit, along with Guertena's. When Garry died, the gallery made something to maybe trigger the memories, and that was my portrait." I recited from Mary's lessons. Ib's face paled. "So, that was you?" She must have talked about the kiss when she first entered the gallery. My face felt hot, and I was trying to remember what was going through my head at the time. _She was just so beautiful, and she kissed me first, but still!_ She turned to the other Garry. "Did we meet before I traveled with Fake Garry?" He looked at her strange, then shook his head. "That was me." I said. I looked at her with pleading eyes, then she gave me a small smile. "He can't be all bad then." She was probably conflicted inside, and I was sad she had to go through that, but happy about her decision.

"Ib, just because he's me, doesn't mean you have to take pity on him." _He sure sounds like a snob. Do I ever sound like that?_ I thought. We were both intimidated by the other, and probably shared affections for Ib. I didn't like the sound of 'Just because he's me'. Ib seemed to dislike it as well. "He's not you." We both looked to her in shock, his more angry, mine more joyous.

"He's his own person, right...what would you like to be called?" She asked, holding out a hand for me to take. I jumped from the safe, and took her hand. "I'm not sure." I answered. I know I didn't want to be called Garry, but I couldn't think of anything better. Garry interjected. "Ragry, Yargg, Arygr, Garyr..." He trailed off. Ib frowned at him. "Why are you acting so strange?" That sure shut him up. In fact, Garry left the room, and sat down outside the door, probably scowling to himself. I couldn't blame him, though. I would have done the same thing, if Ib seemed to prefer a duplicate of me. "What about..." Ib pondered. "Art?"

I smiled at the cheesiness of the name. I was a painting, but it was still a male name. "I love it." I smiled. She matched my smile with an equally bright one, and I felt heat rise to my cheeks. "But, although you're different, you two are still visually identical." An idea entered my head. "Do you have a knife?" As if misjudging my idea, Ib looked horrified. I sighed in exasperation. "No, not like that. See..." I used my teeth to tear off a bit of paper-thin skin at my wrist, and black ink blood flowed from the cut. I barely acknowledged the pain. I smudged the ink onto my hair. "Like this, is what I meant." Ib seemed to understand, but still dislike the idea, but she got behind me and ordered me to sit. I sat down quickly, shocked by her forceful tone. She grabbed my hand, and using the still flowing ink, massaged the ink into my hair, dying it jet black. I was just thankful I didn't actually need the ink blood to survive, she was using a lot. "Thanks." I said, but she was too immersed in her work to notice me.

Once she was satisfied with her dying job, her hands were dyed black, and I was blushing profusely. She sat down in front of me, and seemed troubled by something. "This is just like that painting..." She mumbled. "What? What painting?" I searched through my mind. It did remind me of the one painting. "Identity?" She looked to me. "That's what it's called?" I nodded. She seemed to accept the fact. I looked down to my hands. "Thanks...for helping me, and standing up for me, and kissing-" "You're welcome." Ib's face was bright red. Her face softened, but some of the pinkness remained. "You don't have to thank me. You're already individual, you don't need anyone to help you with that." She crossed her legs, sitting criss-cross-applesauce style. "I can already tell you're a lot more shy than Garry is, even though you're supposed to be a replica." My blush didn't falter for a moment.

I was fake. My heart was a stained glass masterpiece in itself. My hair was intricately arranged thin strands of hair-like string. My eyes were glass with stained glass middle for my irises. The part I found depressing, though, is that my tears were turpentine. My blood was ink, like all of the pieces of the gallery. Though all this, she still was reaching out to me.

Ib stared at my face for a moment, then opened her mouth. "If your blood is black ink, how are your blushes red?" I contemplated this. "I have no idea." We laughed together. She gave me a smile, and I smiled back. "Another question," she began. I lifted my head. "Huh?" I said, asking her her question in my flustered language. "What is the scar on your eye from? Garry doesn't have one." _Design flaw, huh?_ I thought. "Well, my memories say I was bullied as a child for my hair color, and some kids went too far." Ib's face was shocked and apologetic at the same time. "I'm so sorry, for asking also." I gave her a laugh, brushing it off. "It's not like you were there, or like you could have predicted the story." I gave her a reassuring smile.

We stayed in silence for a moment, then I stood up and offered her a hand up. "We should get going." I said. I gave her my hand, and I helped her up. She didn't drop her hand once she was up, and she looked at me. My face felt hot, and I dropped her hand.

"We should go..."

"Yeah..."

"Let's go..."

"Yeah..."

**So, how do my minions like Art? I bet Ib's like: Garry overload. XD Hope you guys liked this chapter! I reached both of my little 'to fifteen' goals! Kinda low goals anyway, but I'm proud nonetheless. Love reading your guy's reviews, so make sure to tell me what you think of where I was going with this. **


	8. Chapter 7

**Sorry this chapter's a bit belated. I had a lot of stuff going on this week, but here is your new chapter! :D**

I was conflicted. Seeing Ib and the replica out of the corner of my eye, they seemed to be better off without me, and together. Ib was smiling, broadly. Every time I saw Garry 1.2 blush, I scowled. Each time Ib gave him a sweet smile, I scowled. Whenever they touched, hands, even, I scowled. It was only then I realized how protective I was of Ib. No, protective isn't the word. Selfish. I wanted her to myself, even if that meant putting her in danger.

I was supposed to be better. I was supposed to be considerate of others. I've been better. Better than the man who looked down at his father who had caused all of the problems in his life, but was trying to make it up to him, and turned away. He was trying to make up for leaving. Make up for making my mother die of sorrow. Leaving me and my sister alone. Roslyn passed at nine. I would never see her crystal blue eyes and obsidian black hair again, and I was so young. I was only 13 when I was forced to be utterly alone in my world. For a long time, I was cruel, selfish, reclusive, snide, and inconsiderate. I stayed alone in my own word until I met Darren at 15. A stocky guy, with inquisitive grey eyes and the funniest Harry Potter glasses. He tried to help me, guide me from my small world. He succeeded, and I was happy. All I needed was myself, and Darren. But then, he was killed in gang warfare. He wasn't even in a gang. He was in the crossfire, though. I stood in shock, those round glasses splattered in blood.

I should have died then.

Darren didn't deserve it.

Why would he push me back?

Why did he save me?

And that's why I had to save Ib. I couldn't see another person I loved torn from my life. Everyone close to me dies. Mum, Roslyn, Darren. Nearly Ib. And now, she was chatting it up with a replacement of me. I really don't know what to call him. _Garry is just too weird, and I'm trying not to be cruel._ I tried to refer to him as Him. He shouldn't have even been animated. He was just existing to remind Ib, and now he was taking my spot. I would always be alone. At least no one had to die this time.

I don't think I could take it to see Ib's fragile body gnarled and riddled with scratches, her eyes empty. Somehow, if I tried to picture Ib's corpse, she always seemed horribly finished. Deep gashes on her body, her neck snapped along with other bones. Those hollow maroon eyes. I scared myself. Garry 2's corpse was much easier, although he always seemed to be sleeping. Eyes grimacing, but seemingly at peace. _So much for calling him 'Him'._ I thought, realizing I had mentally slipped-up.

I was seated by the other side of the doorway, close enough that if I turned my head, I could see what was going on. When I saw him and Ib standing up, holding hands, I instantly stood up. I grabbed Ib and held her to my chest. She was caught off guard and slipped a bit, but I caught her in my arms before she fell. Her face held a light blush, but I was too busy staring daggers at a confused twin of me to really notice. "I think we're done here." I had thought she would try to push me away, but Ib's arms encircled my stomach. She was still so small, her head only rested at my chest. "This is just like old times." She whispered. I saw there were light tears in her eyes.

Looking back to the replica, I noticed his face looked solemn. I would have sneered at him, but then Darren's face appeared in my head. I wasn't about to open my arms for a group hug, but it felt wrong to just stare at him like that.

I shifted uncomfortably, and Ib pulled away suddenly. She saw I was looking at him, and I realized something. I was puzzled it took me that long to realize it, but his hair was black. A bit darker in some strands of the top, but overall, ink black. I looked down at Ib, and the hands she was using to clutch my shirt like a child were stained black. Ib followed my gaze, and gave me a half smile. She stepped away, taking the twin's hand and mine. "Garry, meet Art. Art, Garry." She was beaming, but it seemed slightly forced. As she dropped our hands, both wavered in the air. The other-Art took a step and took my hand in a handshake, a small smile on his face. Ib backed away, but my eyes trailed her. I sighed, looking back to Art's sheepish face. I gave his hand a formal shake, but Art eagerly shook mine like an excited child.

I mentally scowled at Art for a moment. I would probably have liked him if it wasn't for his connection with Ib. They were closer after five minutes than Ib and I after the first trip through the gallery. Of course, eight years apart was quite some time. She had grown up, changed. A beautiful girl like Ib probably had already had her first love. I, however, was still freshly charmed by her maroon eyes, quiet smile. Yet, I hardly knew anything about her. Didn't know her favourite colour, food, or even her passion. Nevertheless, I could expect she played violin, piano, something proper to please the people who created every aspect of their daughter's personality in hopes of having the perfect daughter.

I took my hand back, restraining myself from shooting a comment, picturing Darren's face in my mind. Ib took my hand in hers, and gave me a smile to match my shocked one, before she turned to Art, giving him the same treatment. Ib was quite small compared to Art and I, so I couldn't help but compare the dip in heights to a valley of some sort. I would've cracked a smile, but I just couldn't bring myself to. She led us to a door-I hadn't even noticed, and I had been staring at it for about five minutes-beside the golden one.

I opened the door, peeking through the door. My eyes layed on the person inside, and I pulled my head back and shut the door instantly. Ib looks at me funnily, before dropping my hand which fell limply to my side. She opened the door, letting it swing entirely open. She ushered us inside, and then I saw her face bore a shocked expression. Her eyes fell upon the back of a blonde head, which slowly turned to us. She was wearing a hospital gown, but I brushed off the odd fact. Her eyes didn't let anything away, and she seemed to expect Art traveling with us. "Garry, Ib...Forgotten."

He instantly interjected. "It's Art." Mary nodded, looking between Ib and Art. "You've given him a fake name, then?" The duel between the two sets of eyes was apparent. Mary seemed to have a solemn glare, and Ib's a grieving one. Ib pulled Art closer, and my knuckles clenched. Mary's as well. I looked to Mary. "Why are you here?" I asked, regaining from the initial shock and fear of seeing the girl-now a woman who nearly killed me.

Ib's chin lifted. "And why must you torment us? I know you hate Garry, but I never understood why. Do you hate Art and I, now, too?" Art had his arm around her, and she was shaking with the weight of heavily coughing. Ib's vocal chords were probably unused to the amount of words spoken, was my guess. Mary lowered her steely gaze to Ib. "I hated him because he took you away from me." She unleashed the palette knife I so deeply feared. My eyes shook, and I found it hard to look at anything but the knife. "And now the only two people I like are together. It shouldn't be this way..." She began.

Mary looked up sharply, and I could see the insanity in her eyes. "It won't be this way!" She exclaimed, raising the knife and bringing it down between Ib and Art. Instead of breaking apart, Art blocked Ib with his own body, getting a deep stab that diminished into a gash. I heard a blood-curdling wail from Art, and it pained me to see it. Black ink exploded from the wound, and I thought he would collapse, but he stayed there, protecting Ib. As he slowly slumped over, falling in Ib's unprepared arms, I saw her devoid expression. The weight of Art caused her to sink to her knees, Art's head in her lap. She looked down at the body in her arms, and I saw a tear run down the corner of her eye. "No..."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I looked at Art's pained face, and was forced to kneel from his dead weight. Liquid fell from my eye, and clutched my chin. I held his face in my hands, and whispered. "No..."

Art looked up at me in a one-eyed goofy smile, then a grimace. His head dropped to my lap, and I thought he fell unconcious. My thoughts were proved wrong by his weak voice. "I'm not real. Everything that's happened to me, is just Garry's memories. I've never seen anyone outside of this gallery, never taken a step outside. Everyhing I think I've done is someone else's memories..." His eyes were shut tight, and I only busied myself by making him a bandage. "But you, I know..." I looked up. He was looked at me through a grimace. "I know my love for you is more than Garry's love through memories."

I let out a bitter chuckle. "What's there to love in me, anyway?" Garry seemed shocked at my sudden bitter remark, before he gave me a smile with his intense blue eyes. " Your smile-real smile, not forced one-, how you'd always put yourself before others, your selflessness, your intelligence, beauty, kindness, and how you'd throw individuality away for your parent's pride's sake." I looked to his face in shock. "How did you..." I let it drop. The tear at my chin had dried off, but more were meeting it as I spoke. "Just let me make your bandage."

We were silent as I wrapped the bandage around his waist. "What's real life like?" I answered without looking up from my work. "It's bright. The air is clean, depending on where you are. I can't really describe it, but it seems like everyone barely notices each other. If someone is in need, most people would walk by without a second glance. It's not a paradise." I looked up, my eyebrows joining as I pondered. "It's not a paradise, and compared to here, it's just as dangerous. There are bad people, just like here. Bad things happen, people die. But under all of that, is happiness. People make time out of their troubled lives to be happy." Art was hanging onto every word, and nodded as I finished. I went on with his bandage in silence, and once I had finished, he was passed out. I couldn't help but notice his trim figure, my hands brushing solid abdominal muscles as I worked on the gash.

I saw Mary's knife slide towards me, and I grabbed it, putting it into my coat resting on Art's body._ Just in case..._

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Mary just stared at the two. It seemed like her plan backfired. I knew I had to fight her, make up for everything she's done. Hopefully kill her. Looking around, I noticed there were swords all about the room. I grabbed the closest one, and Mary turned around at the sound of the metal sliding from it's sheath. I guess I expected Mary to fight me with the palette knife, so I was surprised when she flung the knife to the corner of the room, and grabbed a sword herself. At my raised eyebrows, Mary sent me a sneer, and spat out "What, did you really think I'd fight a sword with a palette knife?" I sealed my lips, and jumped back as Mary lunged at me with her sword in hand.

I exhaled, and brought the blade down on Mary's side as she was recovering from overshooting, but she hopped back. I noticed her movements were controlled. She actually seemed sane, other than the fact she was coming at me with a sword. _But that would make me insane, wouldn't it?_ I stepped forward, and jabbed the blade at her like a fencing match. She was caught off guard, and I managed to stab her stomach. Mary doubled over, and I took the blade from her body. I saw ink bleed through her hospital gown.

I figured she would give up, so I turned to help Ib with Art. I felt something sharp impale my lower back, and I gave a yelp of pain. I reached back, my hands closing around the blade. The sharp edges dug into my flesh, but all I cared about was getting the sword from my back. I pulled the sword from my flesh, and I upon bringing it to my view, I saw black ink blood on it. She had stabbed me with my own sword.

I looked to Ib and Art, then back to Mary. She was laying on the floor, clutching her side, ink seeping through her fingers. She wouldn't recover. That was the first time I had seen her wounded. Mary always seemed so untouchable. I kicked her sword from easy reach from her position, and walked over to Ib with Art. She took a look at me with blood around my sides blossoming from my back, and looked away, tears building in her eyes. I saw she had layed her jacket on Art like a blanket. Art was lying at her feet, or, rather, her knees, her legs folded under her. his was was contorted in pain, much like how I viewed his corpse in my mind.

I ripped a section off of the end of my already torn coat, and removed Ib's jacket from Art's chest. It looked like Ib had beaten me to making a bandage for Art, for I could see the same fabric of Art's coat wrapped around his mid-section where ink was soaking through. She had done all this while I was having a frivolous fight with Mary, and I even got myself hurt. I was about to stand up and get ready to advance, but Ib pulled me close to her and removed my coat. I was confused about what she was doing, and I felt heat rise to my face at her touch. She took the jacket shred from my hands, and had me show her my back. She rolled up my shirt, and I shivered whenever her icy fingers brushed my skin.

Ib made my bandage and rolled my shirt down. I glanced to Mary, but she had disappeared. I quickly looked about the room, but she had gone. I turned back to Ib, and she gave me a forced smile as she handed me my coat. Her lips had been sealed for awhile now, but I knew she would only speak when she wanted to, and most likely wouldn't reply if I started the conversation. "Ib..." I ventured. She remained silent. I followed her gaze to Art's motionless body, and I realized Art didn't have a rose to instantly regenerate his health. I pulled back an inch of the fabric to peek at the wound. Ib lurched to stop me, but my hand faltered when I saw there was no wound in question.

I ripped off the entire bandage to reveal a small cut in the middle of his chest, slowly fading. "He has his own rose..." I started. Ib shook her head. "Canvas." I nodded my head. It would make sense for Art's canvas to have the same qualities as our roses. I remembered Ib was still missing her scarlet rose. Upon this thought, I noticed a small bulge in Art's coat. I reached into the pocket, and as soon as I felt a velvet rose, I grabbed it and pulled it from the pocket. "Ib..." I handed it to her, her face not even reacting, and moving to the corner. Ib stared at me for a moment.

Then she spoke a couple of words I thought I'd never hear: "I missed you."

I turned to her sharply, only to see her fumbling with the petals of her rose. "It was impossible to live without you." I said, the words coming from my mouth before I could analyze them. Of course, I was comatose until Ib regenerated my rose. I had stumbled around the gallery for awhile, seeing everything had moved around. I crashed in a random room, only to wake up to Ib.

Ib didn't react to my comment, only nodding, and looking down at her hands. I thought I saw a tear fall onto the rose, before her pale fingers plucked the rose with the tear from it's sisters and brothers. Her form shook, and I could see scratches, like cracks in glass form on her body. I lurched forward, and grabbed the rose from her grasp before she could pull another off. "What was that?! Ib, don't go and try to kill yourself every time something sad happens! You'll just end up making Art and I sad, and we'll all end up dead, because I know I wouldn't want to live without you, and how he looks at you gives it away! You are loved, Ib." I was basically yelling, except for the last part. I basically whispered it.

"I-love you, Ib."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I looked to Garry. "I don't even know what love is." I couldn't meet his eyes, which were desperately trying to catch mine. "I'd be kidding myself to say I love my parents. My father thinks I'm a freak, and wants me to know it, and my mother avoids me trying not to let me know she hates me, but it's obvious. That's why I always tried to please them, but even the perfect daughter has her faults, and that's what they notice." Garry caught my eyes, and I couldn't look away from his stare. "Maybe they do notice how you try to please them. That's why they don't...love you. You try so hard to please them, that you are sacrificing your happiness just to be accepted.

_Art calls it individuality, Garry calls it happiness. Are they the same thing?_

He stood up, flinching as he did. He offered me a hand, but I looked to Art. He seemed to understand, and scooped him in his arms. I stood up, and walked to the door. It felt strange to walk without Garry's hand in mine. I opened the door, and instead of the hall that should've been there, was the room filled with doors. I was to depressed to care. Garry set Art beside the door we had exited, And followed me as I walked to the podium. "What is this room?" He pondered aloud. I took the key from it's usual place atop the podium, and called out "Look for the door titled _Yellow 4_." We both searched until Garry called out and ushered me over.

Garry went back to Art, and I heard him yelling. I rushed over, and heard Garry shooting words at him, "Why the hell did you have Ib's rose, you-", for example. Art looked surprised. "I had Ib's rose...?" I touched Garry's shoulder, and he visibly relaxed, turning to me. "Ib..." He was looking at me pleadingly.

"Garry, he says he doesn't know how it got there." I reasoned. Art smiled at me at the side. I glanced at him briefly, before looking back to Garry. "For all we know, Mary could have put it there to tear us apart." I grimaced upon saying her name. Mary...I wanted to believe she was still reachable. I know Garry wouldn't trust her as far as he could throw her-which actually may be decently far, he carried Art for awhile-, but I think everytime she hurt Garry I think she did it because she didn't know any better. Though, of course, I could still be convinced she was evil. I wanted to believe she was, but I knew she wasn't sane.

Garry seemed to sheepishly recoil after my words. I clutched his jacket sleeve like a child, ready to check the door. I needed the support, emotionally, mentally, and physically. My steps seemed weaker as we headed towards the door. Even the small distance, I felt fatigue wash over me. By the time Garry's hand closed around the handle, I was leaning all my weight on him. Garry pushed the door open slowly. I felt Art's hand on the small of my back, and his eyes trained on the door. He mumbled something like, "4 is a number associated with death... And Mary's colour is yellow." My skin prickled, and as the door swung open, what I saw proved my fears right.

Mary was staring at us, glassy eyes wide open, mouth ajar, and around her neck was red rope reaching the ceiling. Her feet dangled quietly. "Ib..." I ran towards her, pulling out her palette knife from my pocket. I hurriedly cut the rope above her head, trying to support her dead weight falling into my arms. As the weight pooled into my weak arms, I fell down with her. I set her on the ground, carefully. I checked her pulse, relieved to feel a small pump from the heart that flowed ink through her veins.

I looked to the two, who were staring at me with the same gaze Mary previously wore. "She deserves a second chance." I said, simply. Art looked at me and gave me a reassuring smile. Garry simply gazed at Mary's neck, his face empty of emotion other than sorrow. Every time he smiled, he used his entire body, his movements jaunty. But now, he was frowning with his movements. His shoulders were low and sagging, his arms crossed and his knuckles white as his hands clutched the opposite elbows.

I noticed Art was the same, though he's had more chances to smile then Garry lately. Garry seemed disappointed by every decision I made, but I couldn't please everyone. "Garry?" He seemed to contemplate something, and stepped forward the same time as Art, who seemed to be remembering something. "I know CPR." They said unison, Garry seemingly sorrowful, while Art was filled with need to help. They looked at each other carefully. I looked at them, and made a split decision as they looked at me expectantly. "Come here, please, Garry." I decided. Garry stepped forward as Art looked at me sheepishly. I wanted to help Garry feel happier, so I'd included him as much as I could.

I looked down at Mary, wondering who would do something like that. It couldn't have been anything in the gallery, since she could basically bend the art to her will. As Garry applied chest compressions and clearing her airway, I couldn't help but feel jealous. Whether she knew it or not, Garry was technically kissing her. As I realized my own thoughts, I felt heat rise to my cheeks. _What am I thinking...?_

Garry nodded as if to show me Mary was going to be alright. He scooped her in his arms, and I felt myself being picked up as well. I looked up to see Art laughing, giving me a smile. I blushed lightly, and tried to wriggle from his arms. He instantly put me down, his face lighting up. I tried to fight it, but I began to giggle. The giggle became a laugh, until I was gasping for breath. Art looked sheepish, but both of them were staring at me wide-eyed. "Art, that was just too funny... Your reaction!" The laughs slowed down, and eventually, I was silent, staring at two bewildered faces.

They looked to each other, and I saw a smile creep up upon their faces. Suddenly, Garry had set Mary by the wall, and the two were standing in front of me, and behind me. "You two..." Garry grabbed my hands, and Art took my feet. They began swinging my side to side, like I was a little kid. "Put me down! Art, Garry!" I pleaded, and the two just laughed wholeheartedly. They gave me a big swing like they would throw me as they came back, but as I was swung to the other side, their grip stayed tight. Finally, they slowed down, Art placing my feet back on the ground. I quickly brushed off my skirt and rushed the the corner of the room. "Remind me never to laugh in front if you two again." I mumbled under my breath. "Look, we've traumatized her!" Art exclaimed, laughing. Her walked up to me and planted a kiss on my forehead, and in response, Garry lugged him in the shoulder a little too hard to be playful.

Art just shrugged it off, a grin still apparent on his face. I mumbled loud enough for both men to catch it, "We should move forward now." Art nodded, and Garry scooped up a pale Mary. We walked from the room, and a sound that only could be described as a twisted combination if a roar and a wail mixed with a squeaky toy came from the other end of the small room. I turned around, but I regretted it instantly.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Only several feet away was one of the blue dolls on a grand scale, in nightmares. Where the dolls had plush stumps, the monster had vicious claws, each a foot long. The stitches on it's moth were snapped open, and inside it's mouth occasionally sprouted at blood red snake tongue. In it's red eyes, insanity was apparent. I stood there, unable to move. "Run!" Ib called helplessly. Art spun into action, forcing Ib to run for herself by literally pushing me and Ib. We ran to the door, but the room was growing. Originally, the room wa square, but as we ran, the room ran with us.

The monster ran after us, coming with surprising speed on it's clawed arms and legs. Ib nearly tripped over her feet twice, but Art was there to pull her back up. The doll slashed a claw down, nearly grazing Art, but missing him by centimeters. The doll, having put it's weight into the swing, took a moment to rebalance itself. In that moment, we never stopped running, and the room didn't run with us.

We made it from the never ending room, just barely. As we were closing the yellow door, the doll sprinted after us, nearly joining us in the door room. Ib seemed totally out of breath, her small body shaking. I took a step closer to try and support her, but she toppled over before I could catch her. "Ib!" Art and I cried. Art barely caught her, saving her from colliding with the ground. As I stared at her unconscious pale face, all I could say was her name:

"Ib..."

**Just for my friend:**

_**A wild Cyndi appeared!**_

**_Cyndi used Fangirl!_**

**_"Garry/Art's got abs."_**

**_It's super effective!_**

**X3 Well, anyway, I'm going to ask my followers/reviewers/favouriters to review or pm me with your vote in this question: Should Ib end up with Garry, or Art in the end? I have a feeling most who participate will choose Garry. Gotta love dem canons!**

**Make sure you review and follow if you like!**


	9. Chapter 8

**So, the votes from the poll so far are in a dead tie. Don't worry, I'm not ending it yet, but I've got to have the end of it something the majority will like. How would you guys like alternate endings? **

**Anyway, I've decided I'll update chapters once a week, goal be Sunday. I'm a little late today, though. So mark your calendars! Here's the new chapter, my adoring fans!**

"Ib..." I heard from Garry. he was standing over my shoulder, partly to see if Ib was okay, and partly to make sure I didn't turn into some monster and try to eat her or something...that's what his face showed he thought I would do. I didn't think he'd ever trust me. _At least the feeling's mutual._ I thought bitterly. Ib really wanted the two of us to get along, and to make her happy I'd try. Garry didn't seem to notice, though.

We were supposed to be the same person, but we were so different. I was actually afraid to ask him if he had the same scar on his eye, or he just thought wearing his hair like that was stylish. I just didn't want people to have to look at the scar that forced my eyelid shut, or get asked about it. Roslyn told me it would get all the girls to swarm to me, I remembered. She told me this as she was on her death bed, barely able to move. That was why I received the scar, people made fun of my sister and I started a fight, but there were too many.

Just goes to show you have to save yourself. I was waiting for one of the guys to say 'Let's stop, you're gonna give him scars', but no one did. No one called a teacher, and not even the recess monitor bothered to stop them.

I can still remember what they said: "Your mom _was_ a slut, it's better now that she's dead. And now your dumb half-sister's gonna die too. Loser." I couldn't take it. I had been constantly harassed ever since joining that school, rather than the private school my mother paid for, her money received from less than respectable methods. It could be said my mother was a prostitute, but she did what she could to support her son, and once her daughter arrived, her too.

I looked at Ib's unconscious body in my arms, her face seemingly relieved to be free of consciousness. She looked happy, almost. _No, happy is pushing it. Just...relieved._ I thought. I pushed a strand of hair from her face, Her head falling back a bit as the hand supporting her head was removed, my other hand around her waist. Ib, when I first met her-actually, when Garry first met her-was the same age as Roslyn when she died. That was why I was so desperate to save her. couldn't be any different from Roslyn, with blue eyes and a mouth that would never close, rather than open.

My twin standing behind me was pacing. "She'll be alright...not again...get your hands _off_ of her." He finished. He practically snatched her body from my arms. He really didn't trust me. He was so selfish, he didn't even care about Ib, not truly. Either that, or he was blind to her emotions. I definitely wasn't, yet I couldn't tell who Ib loved, or if she even loved one of us.

_Why can't you just love me back?_

"You know she doesn't belong to you." I spat bitterly.

With an equal amount of venom, Garry replied. "You either." He retorted.

He looked at me steeiliy, while I glared at him with just as much death stare mixed in. Garry took Ib in his arms, standing up. I followed., taking Mary's thin body in my arms. Suddenly, I looked down, sadly. "Did you have Roslyn?" He would only understand the question if he did. He looked at Ib, silently, and nodded. The spat had ended as soon as it had began.

He spoke without looking at me. "Then you had Darren, I suppose?" I gave him a strange look. No..." He seemed to be surprised for a moment, before looking back to Ib. "Good for you, then."

Suddenly, I turned to Garry, sharp. "Do you have a scar on your eye?" I asked. He shook his head. He was silent for a moment, before saying "But you do?" I nodded my head, but his eyes were still on Ib, so I spoke up. "Yea." He turned around. "Why?" I looked away. "Protecting Roslyn." He didn't press on.

"I have heterochromia." He said, lifting his hair over the other eye. "Ib never noticed, even now. The other eye's deep violet, but you can barely tell except in the sunlight." _Which you won't find here._ I mentally added. Upon squinting at his eye, I could tell the slight difference in pigmentation before Garry replaced the curtain of hair over his eye. "How come you cover it? I'd think people would think you'd be the coolest thing ever." He looked at me for a moment. "Not really. Quite the opposite."

I'm sure neither of us would shut up if we were talking to someone else, I know I'm talkative, but I really didn't want to talk all that much to him. But, for Ib's sake, I had to break the ice, or at least get us acquainted. "So...Mom?" He snorted. "Don't make it seem like we're brothers." I stayed silent, looking at him expectantly, before he sighed. "Once my dad left, she died of a broken heart, leaving me and Roslyn alone for a while. Dad used to molest us... and Mom knew, but she loved him anyway. We went to an orphanage, and she was beat to death by the older kids because she was crying at night." He said shortly, not bothering to go into much depth. I opened my mouth to tell him my side, but he cut me off. "I'm already depressed enough without having to listen to how Roslyn was tortured living in a parallel universe. I don't need to hear your story right now."

I stayed silent. We finally began walking, me leading to the podium to grab the key that rested there as Ib had, then finding the corresponding door. It was 'Red 6'. Inserting the key in the lock and pushing the door open was a challenge holding Mary in my arms, but I managed, alternating her weight resting on each arm. It would have taken a lot less time had I set her down, but I was too stubborn, according to Garry.

Inside the room was both Mary's and my painting. My painting was left a scene of roses, only disturbed by a few of the roses crumbled, and Mary's glass splayed everywhere, her painting covered in soot, not to mention a rose crudely snapped from the vines. There was a set of oil paints,a paintbrush floating in the air, dabbing at Mary's painting yet with no paint on the end. Beside my portrait was an Eternal Blessing painting above the infamous vase.

I set Mary next to her painting, and took the paintbrush in hand. Garry gave me a sideways glance. "We can paint?" I chuckled. "I can." Besides damage from us leaving our frames, I noticed a few roses were missing form each of our frames, especially Mary's, with only one rose when there was meant to be five. As I busied myself fixing the portraits, Garry dropped their roses in the vase and watched me silently as the petals slowly regenerated.

I could have spent hours per rose missing, but as Mary opened her eyes the moment I finished off the first rose on her canvas, I realized they were our lives. I hurriedly slathered yellow onto the canvas, blotched vaguely resembling a rose. I repeated the process in blue on my canvas, feeling stolen energy flow into my body. Garry seemed to have sat there watching me the whole while as I discovered that the canvases were like manual roses.

"Done yet?" He asked mockingly. Ib was totally conscious, I finally noticed, staring silently at her hands as Garry had his arm around her shoulders, holding her close. Mary was standing in front of her painting, occasionally stealing a glance at Ib. I immediately rushed to Ib, stealing her from Garry and enveloping her in an embrace. She just seemed happy for the touch. "Art..."

Her arms reached around my waist. "I was so worried about you." I breathed. "Art, what about Mary?" She asked. She pulled away, silently. I looked at Mary, her hands closing and opening as if something should be there. "There." I said. Ib nodded, her eyes lingering in mine for a moment before going off to speak with her.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I awoke, but my eyes didn't open immediately. I smelt oil paint, and my legs felt totally weak. I shifted, my body aching. I heard a breath quickly drawn, and close. My eyelids shot open, to the sight of a worried Garry staring at me eagerly. "Garry." I could barely let out before I was ensnared in a hug. "Don't you dare scare me like that again, Ib." He said. He released me, and looked me over. My cheeks had flushed from the unexpectedness of it, and my face was already pale, so it was noticeable. Garry didn't say anything about it, instead saying "Looks like you didn't have any nightmares this time." I nodded. I noticed his coat was draped over my knees, and his arms were bare.

I removed his coat, handing it back to him. He gratefully put it back on, and I realized he had goosebumps. "Are you cold?" I asked. He chuckled. "More from the absolute creepiness of the place, rather than the temperature." He answered. I turned around, curious as to where the rest of my party was. "What's he doing?" Garry placed his arm on my shoulder, pulling me close to him. He pushed hair from my face, and I snuggled into his warmth. " Rejuvenating his and Mary's roses." I nodded, somewhat piqued by the method. I crawled from Garry's hug, and stood behind Art, just able to see his delicate strokes of the paint.

I stood behind him until he realized he didn't have to put so much effort, and began slathering the colours recklessly. I crawled back to Garry, climbing back into his eager embrace. Art quickly finished with the paintings, not seeming to notice he had just ruined masterpieces. Nevertheless, seeing Art with the paintbrush and concentration on his face seemed right. Visualizing Garry with a smock and palette just seemed wrong though. Maybe because Art was, in fact, art.

I shifted as Art turned around, a goofy smile on his face. His eyes laid on me, and he instantly strolled over. I felt myself being torn from Garry as Art's warm embrace drowned me. I could practically feel Garry's irritated expression, as well as Art's contemptuousness. I slowly wrapped my arms around him, burying my head into his chest. He smelled of oil paints and sweat from concentration. "Art..."

"I was so worried about you." He said. _That's right, I did pass out._ Garry made it sound like I had fallen asleep once we settled down. Memories of the blue monster and Mary entered my mind, and I shivered as I pulled from the hug. As I did, I said "Art, where's Mary?"

"There." He was looking at the corner of the room uneasily, where Mary was gazing at her portrait, hands groping empty air. _She looks so sad._ I always had a certain pity for the girl, even as she tore Garry from me. Though I had to thank her, if Garry hadn't been trapped, Art wouldn't have been born. I would have lost him before he was even made.

I stood up, clutching my rose. Once I was behind Mary, I spoke softly. "Mary-" I was cut off by Mary turning around quickly, with tears in her eyes. I was pulled into a hug. I didn't even think before reacting, hugging her back instantly. "Ib, I missed you!" She said, making me express more emotion than the rest of my life combined as tears fell from my face unstoppably. "Ib..." was all I could decipher from her snot-filled tears.

"I forgive you." we said in unison.

We broke away from the hug, a soft smile on my face which was covered in puffy eyes contrasting with the maroon of my irises. Mary looked like the stars and stripes, her eyes red against her deep blue irises against pale skin. Mary was quite pale, but nothing compared to my ghost white complexion.

"Mary, I'm sorry for burning your painting...I was just confused, delusional at that point, and angry for Garry." I said, snuffing my nose occasionally. "I'm sorry for taking your friend away from you." She said. "You were and are my friend. And...I think you should tell that to someone else." She turned to Garry, her eyes flashing with fear for a moment. "I don't think so." I gave her a small smile, squeezing her hand. "It's alright, Garry's only mean to Art.' I said, my smile faltering. Garry turned around, giving me a strange look. "I guess he heard that." I said smally, and Mary gave a chuckle, wiping her tears on her sleeve.

I dropped her hand, and rather than go after Garry, Mary sat next to me. "He can wait..I'm a little afraid." I gave her a sideways glance. "He doesn't bite, you know." I said quietly, making Mary explode in a fit of giggles. I realized something. "How come you've grown since I've last seen you?" I asked. She was supposed to be frozen in time.

Mary cleared her throat. "Garry had died once you left the world, so technically a piece of artwork could take the place of him. I was burnt, but I wasn't destroyed. I knew you would truly burn me if I showed I wasn't dead, so I pretended to be dead and you left. I jumped through the painting, and I lived normally for awhile."

Her face lit up. "Ib, you wouldn't believe it! I tried a snow-cone! It wasn't actually snow, but it was pretty close!" Her face turned serious. "But remember, if you ever find a free lemon snow-cone on the ground, don't eat it. They taste horrible. I've never gotten lemon since." _Had she...eaten dog urine on snow?_ I wondered. I remained silent as Mary blathered on about blue raspberry.

I sat there, listening to Mary's adventured, occasionally nodding. "Mary, you said normally for awhile. What happened?" I asked the moment she stopped for a breath.

She looked at me. "Well, I was put into a weird 'hospital' when I talked to this guy about the gallery. I lived there for awhile. They treated me nice, but I hated it there. They were rude, and the medication hurt!" She frowned at the memory.

Mary was still so young, despite aging eight years. I chuckled a bit, shaking my head.

"You haven't changed in the slightest, Mary." She grinned.

"And neither have you!" She said happily.

"So, what have you been doing?" I pondered how to tell her.

"Well, I was somewhat haunted by nightmares about the gallery since I left, and I had no idea what they were from. Apparently I had some type of amnesia, and had breakdowns, so we both ended up in the ward." I summed it up. Maybe I'd tell her the entire story eventually. Just not today.

Mary pouted. "You mean we were in the same place and we never saw each other?" She asked.

"Well, there are a few metal hospitals in the area...I think" I said hurriedly.

She seemed upset now. I realized I still had her knife. "Mary." I said, pulling it from my pocket and handing it to her. She stared at it in her hands for a moment, before smiling at me. "Thanks, Ib." I wanted to lie to myself and say I truly trusted her, so this was my way of testing her. _It may not be the best idea, for if she is not trustworthy, it's not like she's going to follow my orders like an obedient dog._

I just hoped she wouldn't disappoint me.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I stood in shock as Ib handed Mary the knife. That's not something you give to someone who just told you they were in a mental ward...I supposed Ib had the knife, and she was in the ward as well. _Gragghghghgh!_ I was so conflicted. Not just that, but my instincts told me to destroy Art, and my conscience was telling me the opposite. Then Darren's face would pop into my head, and I'd make a dumb decision, usually to be cold to Art. The guy probably though I was bi-polar. Giving him the death stare, then smiling at Ib.

Ib...she was special. Another thing I was conflicted about. I wanted to protect her, but I knew I was being selfish. She just wanted Art and I to get along. But I didn't want to share Ib. I was selfish. Selfish in that I wouldn't even let her be mine and happy at the same time, because of her wants and needs.

She was right, saying I'm always mean to Art. Mary giggled like a hyena, but I had to think about it. Art was just busing himself fixing the roses, no doubt leaving an ear to their conversation. I was somewhat surprised they didn't tell us to leave. Though it was strange, their reunion was somewhat touching. I was still scared to death by Mary, and somewhat triumphant at the fact she feared me.

Yes, I was happy I scared a painting. It was pretty wacked up, thinking about it. For the thousandth time I wondered how Mary was able to be alive, or myself for that matter. Or, another curious question, how where our lives were tied to roses? It gave me a whole new light on the term 'flora determines fauna'.

Suddenly Mary was heading towards me. I hadn't realized it, but they had been furiously conversing, Ib trying to convince Mary to walk up to me. I saw Ib hanging by the side but still in reach as Mary nervously folded her hands in her lap, avoiding my eyes. "Garry, I'm super sorry for killing you." _That was...blunt._ I shrugged it off, putting my hand on her head and scuffing her hair, shaking inside. "It's alright. I'm not really dead, and Ib forgives you, so I'm fine with it." I said as my insides were screaming for me to slap her.

As my hand rested atop her head, I saw Mary's face flood red. _Is she capable of blushing?_ I pondered. I immediately removed my hand , but her tomato face remained. I secretly hoped Mary did like me, I realized, as Ib became flustered, trying to snap Mary out of it. She was jealous.

As I mentally plotted how I would steal Ib's heart, Art had found a blank canvas and was making starting strokes, making the crude body shapes and beginning to shape them. There were four roses, and their owners beginning to form. He seemed entirely oblivious to the scene behind him.

Mary and Ib were whispering, Mary fast and furiously shooting hushed words as Ib silently listened. among a stream of blurred words, I heard "He's just like Art...I think I really like Art." _What..._ Art seemed to hear as well, and Ib's expression slipped. She seemed solemn, Art shocked, and me in denial. _So much for making Ib jealous. _

"Dammit." I heard Mary whisper.

Art stared at the two for a moment, before turning back to the painting, where I couldn't see his face. I could tell it was the four of us in a circle, from an aerial view and everyone looking toward the viewer. We were each holding our rose. I was surprised to see Art had made he beginnings of his rose black, not blue. He really did want to be viewed as separate from me. Mary's comment must've hurt him, I realized.

Mary's sweetness was too good to last. I knew she would eventually turn on us, just like she did before. I just hoped Ib would understand when she did. Shivers tackled my spine as I imagined Mary's face, plucking off petal by petal of my life force. That face...We had trusted her, and she had taken advantage of us...of Ib.

Art wasn't any better. I'm sure he would eventually turn on us. He was a painting, and I'm sure the story in his memories was much worse than mine. That past, and the constant reminder that he was fake, a copy would surely drive him insane. I know it would drive me insane. My thoughts drifted to the Fake. My arm tingled angrily just thinking about him. I wondered where he had gotten himself. We had left him. I should have killed him, to protect Ib. Everything I did was in my best interests to protect her.

That's all I needed, and i would be contempt. Just to know Ib was safe. I knew I was kidding myself, saying that's all I needed. I needed Ib to love me back. My conscience was nagging: _Selfish. That's all you are. You don't really want to protect her, you just want to be her knight in the shining armour so she'd love you._

It was true, and I knew it wasn't. But it was. They told me it was, but I knew it wasn't.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I turned from Mary at the sound of Garry's soft rambling. He was muttering to himself. "Shut up. Just shut up." I took a step back. His head sot up. He must've heard my heel hit the floor. His expression softened. "Ib." Then his face twisted. "They say I hate you." _What...?_ "But I don't believe them."

My mind was spinning. Did he have schizophrenia? Or was it just the gallery taking it's toll on him? I took a step towards him. Then another, forcing my feet to move. "Ib!" It was Mary. I turned back to her, a desperate expression on my face. I wanted badly for Garry just to smile and chuckle, say it was a joke, and I could scorn him. But he wasn't. His eyes were somewhat glazed, and looked like they had trouble concentrating, his lips never pausing but never making a sound as he spoke to himself.

Mary opened her mouth to speak, and the lights flickered off. I felt a hand grasp my arm, probably Mary. My suspicions were confirmed as I was embraced, Mary holding onto me for dear life. I heard Art in the corner say "Ib, Mary, where are you two?"

"We're fine." I squeaked.

The lights came back on, but the room wasn't the same. All over the walls where scribbles. Barely readable, but they read: _REMEMBER ME, IB? SAD WHEN YOUR KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOUR GOES INSANE._

**Hope you guys liked this chapter. Keep telling me how you'd like it to end, ask me questions and tell me how you think it could be better in a comment or a private message. **

**I'll make sure to post next Sunday, so you'll have to wait for the follow up. I love cliffhangers, if you haven't noticed. :D**


	10. Chapter 9

**Yea, I can do this, update weekly. I hope so. Anyway, I realized I only do this occasionally, but I hereby decree that I do not own the game Ib in any way, shape, or form. So, hope you like this chapter, and read on! :)**

I stared at the mumbling mess I had trusted with my life, and fell to my knees. I drew my arms around his shoulders, pulling him close to me. Garry continued to mumble, giving no sign he had noticed my presence. I silently sobbed into his lilac hair, and felt an arm tug me away. I was pulled into Art's comforting arms, clutching the fabric of his shirt like it was my rose. I sobbed, but no tears fell from my eyes. If the one who wrote the message was telling the truth, he was insane.

I broke from Art's embrace. How could he have gone insane in a safe haven as this? I thought made me pause in fear. _Had I...done this?_ I took a step towards Garry, fearing the worst. Hoping it would work. Knowing it wouldn't. I drew my hand back, and let it recoil to come in contact with the soft skin on Garry's face. The room fell silent. Art seemed to flinch, a if recalling the same scene from his memories and being thankful it wasn't him. Mary just stood blankly.

"Garry?' I called out his name. He blinked, his mouth pausing in it's never ending mute ramblings. He looked up. "Ib?" I nodded, exasperated. "Ib...you're supposed to be dead. Those guys...they beat you to death." Art froze, and grasped my shoulders, pulling me to him. "She's not Roslyn. It's Ib." My mouth opened and closed. He recognized me, but thought I was someone else. I vaguely remember the name, and recalled I had heard Garry call me that when he thought I was asleep the first time in the gallery. Who was Roslyn to him?

I tore from Art's grasp. He once again grabbed my arm, resisting my struggles. "Ib, you don't know what you're messing with." I paused. "And you do?" Art would know who Roslyn was, I realized. "Art, who is Roslyn?" Garry sharply turned to me, confusion on his face. "Roslyn..." He said, savouring the word. Art looked down. "She was, not is. Our sister." I looked up to him. Was. Is dead. Gone. He thought I was her.

Art let me go, and I rushed to Garry. His face was still red from where I slapped him. It was stupid, and foolish, and hopeless, but I had an idea. I kneeled again to be his level, if not lower due to our heights. He was holding his arms like they were locked inside of a straitjacket. I tilted my head, and lightly pushed my lips into his. I could actually hear Art from behind me: "Awww." Garry hesitated, and I feared he either was still insane, or my dumb idea had somehow worked and he really didn't like me.

At least, that's what I was thinking before Garry pulled his arms around me, holding me close as he kissed my lips. I sort of shoved him away, Garry's questioning eyes in sight. "Do you remember anything that just happened?" I asked desperately. He goes insane, and as soon as I kiss him, he's better and tries to make out with me. "Well, I blanked out for awhile, and when I open my eyes, you're kissing me." I sighed. His arms around me where still holding me in place. "Can you let me go, please?" I was completely flustered inside, just trying to act normal. I could tell my cheeks were warm, and as Garry's face mimicked mine, he let me go and said "Sorry," sheepishly.

I get up and look around to see Mary trying to kiss Art, who was desperately avoiding her. It was kind of sad, but funny at the same time. Garry leaned over to look me in the eye. "So, why did you kiss me?" He asked quizzically. My flusteredness was finally catching up to me. "Well, you w-were absolutely insane, giggling and...mumbling, so.." I gestured to the walls. He chuckled, to my bewilderment. "How come you didn't slap me, like last time?" I put on a straight expression, not allowing my smile to peek through. "I tried." Garry chuckled.

Garry slipped his arm around my waist, holding me close. I shivered, but he didn't seem to notice. I tried to send every signal to notify him I was uncomfortable, even clearing my throat, but his primary goal was to make Art feel like crap, I'd realized.

Art turned around, his face leaden in disappointment as his eyes laid on me and Garry, then confusion as he saw my desperate expression. He grinned, much to Garry's dismay. "Don'cha think you're suffocating her?" Garry's face fell. Instead of answering with a witty comment as I expected him to, he just looked to the floor. "You can't take her from me." I peeled his hand from my waist, sidestepping from his arms. His head shot up, bewilderment in his eyes. "I'm not yours to take." Art took an eager step forward, before I added "Or anyone's." That stopped him.

Mary spoke up. "Ib, how do you get all the guys to like you?" She whined like a child. By 'all the guys' she obviously meant Art, and he took a step from her. I chuckled. "Mary..." I could tell the guys were expecting me to say I didn't know what she was talking about, so instead I smiled, and said "It's not like I try," with a grin. Garry looked at me shocked, and Art grinned along. Mary seemed confused, and I let out a laugh before quickly suppressing it.

Art put a hand on my shoulder, peering into my face. "Let it out." He said with a smile. I looked up at him sheepishly. "Well, it's not like I can laugh with you staring at me like that." That earned a laugh from Art. Garry was still piecing the entire situation together.

As if he finally understood the situation, Garry gave me a soft grin. He walked to me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "You're finally finding yourself." I blushed. "W-we should move on." Garry's gaze fell, but he walked to the door, probably planning to open it for the rest of us. I silently followed, and had to back up and a bewildered Garry swung around, exclaiming "It's locked." I brushed past him, trying the door by pulling and pushing. It was locked.

I turned to face th room, leaning against the door with a sigh. To be bested by a room with no harm. Pretty pathetic, if you ask me. The scribbles on the wall remained, and as my hand touched the base of the _?_ in the message, I quickly reclaimed it. At my fingertips and palm was blue paint, dripping from my skin onto my boot. I instantly hopped from the wall, hoping my backside hadn't been coated with paint. I rubbed the paint from my hands, the faded blue hue joining the black ink that was quickly wearing away.

Joining the others in searching for a way out, I leafed through the books on the bookcase. As I shoved a book on the uses of oil colour into the shelf, the one beside it pushed out. The title of the book was _Key_, and I hadn't noticed it before. I took it from the shelf, and it felt oddly light for it's size, a good four hundred pages. I opened the book, and as soon as I did it fell to a certain page. I realized that the book was hollowed out. I fetched the key from the cavern it rested in, and announced to the others "Found it."

I led the way to the door, feeling Garry and Art's presence behind me as I fit the key through the lock. The door made a sound, and when I turned the handle, it opened. behind me was the cheering of the entire party, and I chuckled. Instead of the room with all the doors, a new dungeon stared at us. Garry stepped up, taking my hand. Art instantly took my other hand, and Mary Art's. I could hear her mumble "Ib should have a third hand." I chuckled. We pressed on, our only belief that we would make it out in our trust in each other.

The dungeon was coloured black. It make my spine crawl, looking at the artwork that adourned the obsidian walls. In the center of the large room were many statues, not the standard headless statues, but not ordinary ones either. They were in a circle, their sickly marble skin riddled with blood. It was human blood. There was a single rotten corpse in the center of the circle of statues.

Each of the statues was decorated with a designated shape and colour corresponding to the portraits on the wall on their chest, so it looked slightly less macabre. Still, it was like some morbid bully circle. I stood staring at the body, recognizing it but not wanting to say anything. It used to be the girl

with auburn hair, standing in front of the Abyss of the Deep floor painting. I still remember from when I was nine, her saying 'I feel like it's pulling me in.' I suppose it did. Her plum sweater was shredded to reveal a multitude of scars and gashes done by the statues. It looks like she hadn't lasted long, though. I broke from the two boy's grasp, only able to because they were frozen in shock. I rushed to the girl. I pushed through the statues, only stopping until I was in the center with her twisted body. I didn't know what I expected to do. She was dead, and for a long time. Art, Mary, and Garry were desperately trying to get through the statues, but they had adjusted to close me in and lock them out.

I took her head in my hands. Her chocolate eyes were wide open, until I delicately pushed them closed. "She's sleeping." I told myself aloud. I realized she had a school name tag in her purse that had spilled to reveal it's contents. I greedily scooped up the name tag, desperate to remember her, if only by name. _Lauren Sheffield of Class 3, Hillside High_. I let out a breath, shoving the tag into my pocket. Suddenly, all of the statues took a step to me. "Thief," said a metallic voice.

A statue took my arm, and I felt bruises form through it's iron grip. I tried to pry myself free, but only ended up in another's grasp. I hardly reacted, though Garry was practically screaming at them, punching them, and I though I saw tears fall from his eyes. Even though blood flowed from his knuckles, they weren't even fazed. "Ib! I'll get you out, I promise!" Art tore down the painting with a purple triangle, and the statue with hold on me, with a purple imprint on it's chest, collapsed. The statues took another step, and I realized they only had a few degrees of freedom, and tried to stay as low to the ground as possible to avoid them for a while. A yellow circle statue collapsed, and Mary got the idea, tearing down all the blue paintings. I hoped the blue thing was out of convenience, not a metaphor.

I scrambled from the group of fallen statues, and as soon as I did, I was tackled by everyone. The one who held me closest, though, was Garry. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you." He said. I shook my head. I opened my mouth to say something, but Art cut me off. "Just be happy she's safe." Art looked me square in the eyes. "You know you've got to think before running headlong into danger because of your emotions." I nodded, not really eager to speak up any longer.

I looked up to the faces of my friends, and was somehow happy we were all sucked into the Hell that was called a gallery, together. I pondered if that made me greedy. "Hey...did you guys get hurt trying to save me?" I asked quietly. If they had, then I'd rather I had been taken by the statues. Garry shook his head, followed by Art, who chuckled as well, and Mary took my hand. "Don't worry Ib. We love you." I was taken aback. Mary stuck out her pinkie finger. "Together forever, promise?" I gave her a smile, and made her childish pinkie promise.

Garry took my hand, and while Mary tried for Art's hand, he led me through the latest dungeon. We were all walking together, but mainly in buddies, and Art din't seem too happy about his. It made me smile, but sad at the same time to see how Mary's feelings were not returned. But, I realized, neither were Art's, or Garry's. I thought. Did I love them? Definitely. But the way the loved me? Maybe. Did I love one more than the other? No way to find out.

Down the hallway wa a series of grotesque paintings, finding myself cringe at multiple occasions at Guertena's twisted mind. One depicted a man being eaten alive by a bird of prey. Another showed a chess board, Death's army on one side, weak humans on the other. It was obvious who was losing. The worst one showed the blue doll moster. I hated how it kept reappearing, everywhere I turned.

The macabre paintin had an outlier, I noticed. A painting showed a worn cat toy, worn in a way that showed it was loved. The button eyes were actually cute and comforting, and only when I realized I knew it from my childhood, in that it used to be mine, did it creep me out. I edged from the painting. "Ib, why are you staring at that creepy painting?" I heard. I sighed. It was creepy in that I had owned it, but it gave me comfort. "It's just a kitten toy."

Mary turned to me. "Not really, but I think it's cute." I smiled, and nodded. I heard Garry sigh. "_Well, fuck._" I giggled, purely from his expression. I waited for Art's input, and realized he was looking at the painting we had encountered awhile back, with ink flowing from the man's hand all around. Now the ink around his face was scratched out, revealing Art's face. I dismembered myself from the group and hugged him from the side. He didn't even react for awhile, before pulling me into an embrace without a word.

Mary tugged on my arm. "No fair!" She pouted. Art laughed. It seemed he was in better spirits. I peeked at the painting, wondering why he was so unsettled by it. He was a painting, so he kinda had to expect stuff like that. "Art?" I asked. "Hmm?" He answered, peering at my face. "Do you not like the painting?" His expression fell. His gaze was distant as he looked back to the painting. "I don't know, it's just strange to see, I guess." By this time Mary had latched herself hugging Art's other side, but he paid her no mind.

Garry was staring at the cat painting. He turned to the rest of us, a puzzled expression on his face. "We should move on," in a gruff voice was enough to get the rest of us in order and moving forward. I felt it was tine to give Mary a turn, so she was silently content holding Art's hand in one hand, and mine in her other. Garry walked behind me, protectively, and I saw Art peer at me several times as we walked through the hallway. Once we came to the door, Garry advanced and ushered us through. The entire time, Mary was chatting aimlessly to Art, who was staring at me non-stop, and I was silent, along with Garry. Something seemed on his mind, and being silent was normal for me.

Once we stepped through, even Mary was at a loss for words. The entire room was a chess board, the white side the monsters, the black side the humans. It was the same scene as the painting, other than the fact a few things had changed, and most of the humans were missing. The giant chess pawns that were there, only a couple, were soldiers, instead of the helpless weaklings like in the painting. The monsters were a strange mix of an arachnid, a wolf, and a Tyrannosaurus, with insane tendencies, drooling into the floor, pacing in their spot. Wait-drooling, pacing? I realized they were live, actively waiting to be ordered to move. The soldiers twirled their shields, tapping swords and spears on the floor. They were like roman soldiers, with their armour. Garry studied the scene. He took a step onto the board, and the instant he did, a petal from the rose peeking from his pocket fluttered off.

"Garry!" I would have ran after him, but Art held me back silently. I thought he would say nothing, and was readying myself to go after him again, until Art said "That would defeat the purpose." I looked up at him, shocked. He gazed glassily at the chess board. "He's doing whatever he can to protect you, keep you from harm's way. If you were to be hurt trying to protect him, he would never forgive himself." I wasn't sure if he was entirely talking about Garry. "That's how he's expressing his love." I sighed, looking back at Garry. He was contemplating his next move, instead of darting back.

"That's a stupid way to express love." Art looked at me in shock. "Love should be expressed in ways that benefit both. Like you said, if you were to be hurt trying to protect me, I'd never forgive myself. If doing something stupid means expressing love, then do that stupid thing together." He seemed defeated.

"Plus," I added, "Girls aren't as weak as you think. Or weak at all, for that matter." I said matter of factly. Every time I opened my mouth to speak more than five words, I received a gawking from Art and Mary. Mary was in awe. "Woah, Ib, that was deep!" Art stared in shock, and then broke into a smile.

"Typical Ib." I smiled.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I scowled, seeing Ib, Mary, and Art all chatting like that. I wondered what Ib had said to make Art so flustered. I could see he had just fallen even more in love with her, just by the expression in his eyes. I usually wasn't the jealous type, but ever since Ib, I wanted her all to myself. But that was just normal, right? I'd be even more insane if I wanted to share the love of my life. I shivered at the thought of an open marriage. _Wait, so now I'm thinking of marrying Ib?_ I thought about it, then decided. _Yeah, I am._

I scrunched my brow, staring at all the plans of action. One would be to turn around and run away, but I wasn't about to take that road. Upon lots of contemplation, I moved my foot to take a step. Ib rushed towards me, taking my arm and pulling me to her, "You are not going to be stupid! Did you not think about checking the rest of the place before you kill yourself?" I was astonished by her harsh tone. My emotions were building up, and I just couldn't take it anymore. i took her by her shoulders, embracing her. "Oh Ib! I'm rubbing off on you!" Then I realized. I pushed her from me. "Oh crap, I'm rubbing off on you." That was not a very good thing. I could just imagine Ib shopping for torn coats, smoking. I shivered.

"Ib, I know I'm amazing, but I'm not a very good role model." She laughed. Her laugh was sweet, and beautiful. I was so caught up in her laugh i forgot what she was laughing about. Yeah, Ib could do that to me sometimes.

Suddenly, I took Ib by her shoulders again, stared at her astonished face, and crashed my lips into hers. I could tell she was resistant, but she didn't push me away. Ib was so amazing. Beautiful, intelligent, selfless, modest. I knew I loved her. As I felt her warm lips on mine, we were harshly shoved apart. In place of Ib, Art's furious face entered my vision. I felt his hand forcefully graze my jaw, the power behind it almost causing me to fall.

"Garry!" I heard Ib call. I held a hand to my jaw, rubbing the raw skin. I heard Ib practically yelling at Art. I turned furiously on Art. "You don' own her!" I called before punching him in the jaw with an equal amount of force. Ib turned on me. It was actually scary to see, Ib's eyebrows knitted and her mouth furious. I couldn't really focus on what she was saying because I was to focused on Art rebounding, and I dodged his hit. Before I could notch another punch, Ib dived between us. It was obvious she would follow us if we tried to move. "Ib..." She sighed. "Art, Garry, stop it. You can't fight over something so frivolous..." She looked distracted. Art seemed enraged. "That wasn't very frivolous to me! Ib, I love you-" Ib cut him off. "Stop saying that so easily."

I was surprised. I expected Art to respond angrily, but he only nodded, and looked to the ground in defeat. Ib examined my bruise, my head in her hands. I couldn't relax with her hands on me, even on my chin. She gave the same treatment to Art, who's blush was prominent. Ib sighed. "We don't have any ice to treat you two with." I shook my head. "It's just a bruise, I wouldn't want you to go through the trouble." She sent me a hard look. "I am taking care of you to even if I have to tackle you." I had to smile.

We continued on, me following Ib from behind, while the rest of them were holding hands like some kindergarten class. Art kept glancing at Ib, much like the way there. I nearly growled. As we walked to the next room, I pushed open the door to see a chess piece on the ground. I examined it before slipping it in my pocket. Other than that, there really was nothing in the room other than bookcases. Ib examined a few, then handed me a chess piece. It seemed just like when I had to find the paint balls, though I never found out what for.

We exited the room, and tried the door beside it. When the handle didn't budge, I turned it again. "Damn. Looks like it needs a code or something." Ib paused. She opened her mouth, but before any sounds could come out, Mary interjected. "Try 6731. It's the chess board piece's birthday." I looked at her with mild awe. Art gave her a smile. "Thanks, we would have never figured that out." Mary smiled.

I typed in the code, and there was a sound like a door unlocking. I tried the door again, and it budged. Inside was a painting of a man, hunched over a desk, a chess piece sitting atop. "Sir?" Mary began. He looked up from his work briefly, before looking back down and scribbling a few things down. "What?" he asked, his voice deep and threatening.

Mary seemed unfazed. "Sir, can we have that chess piece you have?" He looked at it as if just noticing it. He stared, then scribbled something else.

"No."

Mary pouted. "Why not?"

He answered with patience, but without looking from his work. "Because, my dear, I am in the middle of a very stressing equation."

She was unaffected. "Maybe I can help you."

"I doubt it."

"I think so."

"...Me too." Ib had added her opinion. The man looked up at her.

"And who are you? A friend of Mary's?" They were both paintings, I suppose, but I did''t expect them to know each other. Ib didn't let any sign of her being bothered by this, however, as she answered swiftly.

"Yes. Now what is your problem? I'm sure we can help."

The ma stared dully for a moment, before sighing. "Fine." Ib looked overjoyed.

As the man explained the problem to the girls, I looked at his plaque, listening to the bits about "Need a child's point of view" and the numbers: 7073;180, 0, 90, 180. "I've put them into charts, graphing the numbers, putting them into equations, anything you can think of. I just can't make sense of them." The name on his plaque read _Mathematician's Blind Spot_.

Ib stared at the data for a moment, before stating: "Love."

The Mathematician stared at her blankly. "Love?"

She nodded. "When you tilt each of the number's the corresponding amount of degrees, it spells out love, but you have to be a child to see it."

He seemed to accept the answer. "How could I have been so blind?" he pondered quietly, before dissolving from his frame. Art reached his hand inside, pulling the chess piece from it's place. He handed it to me, and I slipped the small metal pawn inside my jacket pocket silently.

I ruffled Ib's hair as we walked from the room. "I'm proud of you, Ib. You handled that well." Art chuckled.

"Better than you."

Mary piped up. "What about me?" She pouted, until Art calmed her down by saying she was "Very important." She muttered unhappily "But not as much as Ib, apparently."

Ib hugged her from behind. "Mary, are you jealous of me? Why? You are so much better than me." Mary seemed shocked. "You think so?" Ib smiled. "Definitely." Ib sure knew how to deal with a roaring fire, apparently.

We moved on, Ib seeming somewhat less than eager to do so. She was fumbling in the pocket I knew held the girl's name tag. "It's alright. There was nothing you could do." This didn't make her feel any better. _Crap._

I had a strange feeling as my hand rested on the doorknob. I had a premonition that what followed would have an affect on me, but I shrugged it off and turned the knob.

I wish I hadn't.

**I 7073 CLIFFHANGERS! :D **


	11. Chapter 10

**I'm going to let you know I'll have to probably postpone the next chapter to as late as a week late, I've got finals so I can't spend all week typing instead of studying. And chapter ten! An anniversary, or something.**

**But I still love you, so don't worry! I just love my future and grades a bbiiiiittt more. Anyway, here's the latest chapter! :) And happy mother's day!**

I froze, my eyes landing on the small body backed up to the corner of the room. It was a girl of approximate twenty-three, though she looked much younger due to her thin frame. Obsidian hair tumbled into her eyes, side bangs not doing much to stop her hair from doing so. The long strands of her hair fell down her shoulder to beneath her shoulder blades, longer than when I saw her last. Her crystal blue eyes were open in fear, blinking between Art and I. "Ani-chan?" She asked. I blinked. She was staring at Art, not me.

"Roslyn..." Art and I said in unison. Art was holding hands with Ib, but he broke from her and took a step forward instantly. Roslyn turned to me. " Impostor." She was clutching a lilac rose to her heart. I removed my blue rose from my coat. "No, I'm your real brother." I said, glancing back to Art, who gave me a dirty look. She had only known me with blonde hair. Now with my trademark lavender hair, it was hard to picture me with any other colour, let alone blonde. Not to mention I was supposed to be four years older than her, not four younger.

Roslyn shook her head. "Both of you. My real ani-chan's protecting me from the shadows." I flinched. That was the difference between me and her 'brother'. He was protecting her, and I couldn't. It was then I noticed the entire room was dark, but she wasn't immersed in the shadows. I was a strange sight that made my eyes constantly adjust. Shadows made out the texture and made things realistic, and three dimensional, so she looked like a vivid drawing without much detail. I knew she was real, though. She was dark in some places, her hands beginning to fade to the shadows.

I took a step to her, and she shoved herself even further into the corner. I blindly stumbled into the room, collapsing in front of her and encasing her in an embrace. She didn't react, other than muttering: "Garry." I was relieved. That is, until I was instantly shoved away, which had been happening an awful lot lately. I was knocked onto the floor by the force of it, the heavy weight of a boot on my chest. My boot, in fact.

I heard Ib gasp. "Fake...", and Art mutter "Jesus..." I lifted my head high enough to see him barely, enough to tell his skin was turning into felt, remaining it's colour but the texture was plush-like. His hair was thick collections of thread, an unrealistic sickly shade of lavender and felt cut-outs at the top I could see once he leaned to look at me, at which point I saw his face. Oh God, his face... his mouth was sealed by red thread, weaving through his plush skin. His eyes were cheap plastic often found in stuffed animals. You could see various seams in his 'skin'. This half-man was the one my sister trusted more than me. He wasn't even half-human. He never was human to begin with, and now his true colours were showing. The shadows incased him much more than Roslyn, nipping at the ends of his body and where shadows would naturally reside.

I struggled under his surprising weight, considering he was probably stuffing inside, trying desperately to rid him off me. Ib took a running start, and attempted to shove him from me. She, by then, knew he was much heavier than he looked, but his balance was thrown enough for me to escape. I heard an inhuman growl resound through his throat. "You monster..." I hardly whispered.

"Monster?" He called out, the treads at his mouth unraveling, then as soon as he finished speaking, replacing themselves as if they were animate. It was sickly to see. I heard Art mumble: "Monster doesn't do that_ thing_ justice." Fake ignored him. "You did this to me." He looked to Ib who was being guarded by Art, and before she could move, he had his hand at her throat. Instantly, Art tried to pry his hand away, knock him out, bite him, anything to get him to let Ib go, and all in the moment it took me to stroll over. I punched him, hard, and my hand came back with bruises, my other cradling the hand and curses streaming from my mouth. He was statue inside, doll out. No wonder he was so heavy. I was waiting for Mary to start punching his arm like a child, but she was missing. I was too distracted to look for her, though. I mimicked Art's stupid attempts, hoping I could make a difference.

Ib's face was paling, getting even whiter than usual, and Fake wasn't even making an expression. It was yet to see if he could, the only facial expression seem from him in that state was boredom, and fury. Ib was starting to make choking sounds, desperate for air. Fake suddenly let her go. In his hand was Ib's red rose, a petal fallen off from the experience. While we were so focused on saving Ib, we hadn't noticed he was blindly searching through her jacket pockets-I hoped he only searched her jacket pockets-for her rose. I immediately tried to snatch it back while Art was helping Ib catch her breath. I grasped the petals in my hand, but instantly let go as the petals were disturbed from their spot, beginning to be pulled off. Ib wheezed.

"Mary..." Ib got out between wheezes, I heard from over my shoulder. I blindly tried again and again for the rose, but it was firm in Fake's hand, and I knew I could injure her rose. He was starting to walk back, and I remembered Roslyn. As I whirled in front of him and was pushed out of the way as he kept walking, I decided it would be better to follow. Once at Roslyn's side, he kneeled down and presented her with the the flower. I noticed several discarded and picked clean roses in a pile by her side. Roslyn happily plucked the rose from his hands like he was a baby, completely ignoring me.

"Thank you, ani-chan!" Her name for me echoed through my mind. We weren't Japanese, but upon knowledge her father was from my mother, she tried learning the language best she could. She could only remember certain words. Big brother was one of them.

I reached to take the rose from her, before my world went black and my head felt like it was caving in.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

It was Roslyn.

There was no way to express my feelings at that moment, but I handled it better than Garry. On the outside, at least. On the inside, I was freaking out. She was supposed to be dead. In Garry's world, reality, she was beaten to death. She looked perfectly fine, a lot better than when I had seen her off. And older.

I could tell Ib was silently freaking out as well. Her eyes gave it away. Her expression showed she was mildly interested, but her eyes told a different story. She was worried, about Garry, about me, and about Roslyn. But not herself. I squeezed her hand, and watched as it played out.

Now Ib was gasping for breath, her life depending on cold air coming to her lungs. I tried to help her, my hand of her back, but that was really all I could do. Getting her rose back was useless, and I mentally kicked myself being blind to how he had just taken the flower while we were distracted. Garry was wasting his breath in his efforts. Right when I was about to tell him to give up, Fake had punched him, and supposedly knocked him out. "Garry..." Ib breathed. I stopped her.

"Don't worry about it. Save your breath." She shook her head, straightened up, took a breath, then a step. Immediately after the step, she had to sit down and catch her breath.

"Ib, don't worry about, I'll go see if he's alright." She looked up at me, then nodded. I ruffled her hair, then jogged to Garry's body. Fake and Roslyn had gone, leaving a pile of dead and crumpled rose stems in their place that made my spine crawl. I was somewhat relieved they were gone, until I realized they had Ib's rose, making me angry all over again. I had thought they were all dead and bare, but on the top of the pile was a blooming lilac rose. I picked it up, puzzled by it. Memories of Roslyn sitting in the corner with a lilac rose at her heart flashed through my head, and I pocketed it.

I checked Garry's pulse quickly, sighed in relief, and slung his body over my shoulder. Walking back to Ib, and had a smile to relieve her anxious expression. "He's alright, he'll just be out for awhile." My eyes scanned for the missing bundle of sunshine.

"Where's Mary?" I asked. Ib opened her mouth to speak, but closed her mouth and shook her head, signifying she didn't know. I sighed, shifting Garry on my shoulder. "we'd better leave this room, in any time." Ib nodded. She was doing better, I'd hoped. I eased my mind with logic, he obviously looked fine, she just was normally silent. I opened the door, jumping back a bit as Mary's familiar yellow mop of hair entered my vision. Ib ran forward, hugging Mary happily, then withdrawing as Mary didn't react whatsoever.

"Ib." I warned. Mary turned around, slowly, and Ib creeped back to me, holding onto my sleeve. Mary's palette knife was out, and I could see the regret on Ib's face. Not only that, but the disappointment. Mary swung her knife on us, and I called out as Ib lurched away to avoid being cut "Ib! Run!" She looked to me, obviously wanting to protest but knowing she would give in eventually, and ran off in the other direction. Mary looked down, knife still clutched in her hand.

"Why do you love her, and not me?" She asked, before slashing again. As I jumped back, she continued. "We could all live here, together. If you'd just love me. Even Garry." I didn't reply, just waited for her to finish. "Garry and Ib could love each other, and you and me. It works out."

"Mary..." I said sadly. "Do you really feel that way?"

"What way?" She asked, pausing in her puzzlement.

"That you'd break apart two who love each other for your own selfishness."

"But, Ib doesn't love you."

I scowled. Mary took the opportunity. She made a slash at my face, my skin exploding in pain as my face was painted black. I cradled my face, and fell down. This would be the end. I just wished she made it quick.

"Because I love you, I made that scar. To remember me by. And you can't remember me if you're dead, so go on." I looked at her in shock. "Go on, before I change my mind. I nodded quickly, holding my face and supporting Garry's weight on my shoulder with the other. I fled.

I should have probably told Ib somewhere to run to, but i figured she's be hiding somewhere at the end of the hallway. "Ib-Ib, it's alright to come out, now." I called out. I knew I didn't say 'hide', I said 'run', but I still figured she wouldn't be able to run too far. "Ib come out." I turned the corner, and scoped the room with crumpled statues. I scowled to myself, then decided she might've gone to a new room. I walked down another hallway, with a painting of a clock with bird flying away from the spinning hands. A door was at the end. The handle was cold, and when I turned it, I found it was locked from the inside, but it could be opened from the outside. She probably would've locked the door behind her.

I quickly wiped my face of ink, the pain faded at that point. The cut went from under my eye covered with hair to the opposite side of my face, nearing my chin but stopping just before. The feeling in my face had disappeared, leaving me numb. Only stray drops of blood dripping from my chin and the numbness reminded me of the cut's existance. Mary's wound had served it's purpose, I didn't think it'd disappear until I rejuvinated my painting. Wherever it was.

"Ib, are you in there?"

No response.

"I'm coming in." _Once I find the key._ I mentally added.

_Well, crap_ I thought. Ib was missing, Garry was unconscious, and Mary was insane. Not to mention Ib's rose was missing along with her. Optimum situation, if you ask me. I ran a hand through my hair and set Garry down by the door. Hopefully he would regain consciousness soon, because I needed company, even if it was Garry. We often argued, but if he was anything close to me, he couldn't be left alone. I had to find Ib soon, too. I was worried about her. She could be dead right now, or in Fake's clutches, or lost all alone. None of those would be good.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I had stared at Art for awhile before turning around and running away, mouthing the words "Goodbye." as I ran forward. I knew he wouldn't be able to see me, and that was partly why I did. As my limbs grew leaden and my lungs gave out, I was only a couple steps around the corner. It wasn't that I was unhealthy, just Fake's hands around my neck still haunted my lungs. such a shame, Garry's slender hands had been turned into death weapons. The plush skin was unsettling, albeit soft.

Although I felt I could only go for a couple steps more, I managed to make it to a hallway. Art had told me to run, so I did for as long as I could, and eventually started walking. There was a painting on the wall titled _'Time Flies'_, showing clock hands chasing doves. The hands of the clock were actually twirling, and I found myself reaching to stop the hands. I had been staring at it, and supposed I should've moved on instead of staring at a painting that did nothing to benefit me.

I entered the room at the end of the hall, relieved to see it was filled with only a black diamond-shaped bed, and a few bookcases. I closed the door behind me, locking it too. Art would have wanted me to take all precautions. I walked slowly to the bed. I ran my hand over the duvet, collecting quite a bit of dust. I clapped my hand on the fabric, watching as a small dust cloud formed. I thought time stopped in the gallery, but I supposed the gallery had its own course of time, too.  
I climbed under the duvet, which was pulled up to my ears. Sometimes I have a hard time remembering I'm not still nine, and my mom won't tuck me in anymore. I often acted as I did as a child, or so I've been told. Which the covers up to my ears, and bunches of the sheets in my arms, I made the foreign bed homey. I slept on my stomach, curled up like a newborn to it's mother. My eyes betrayed my drowsiness, and I fell asleep quickly, to dream of memories.

___I had just been chased by a crazy Lady in Red, having to mislead her to get the key in her painting. I lost a petal, and after rejuvenating my rose in the handy 'Eternal Blessing' vase, traveled to the right. It was a nice break, me still lighly wheezing. I never had a good heart or lungs, but I could run when required._

_I walked into the room to find a man on the floor. Injured and unconscious, but a potential companion. I crouched down next to him, pushing a strand of oddly-coloured hair from his face. In his hand was a key, and as I pryed his hand open, I silently thanked and apologized to the man. I contemplated giving him a massage to ease the pain, but I figured it would do more harm than help._

_I unlocked the door inside the room to the left,but not before inspecting the red coloured liquid that could really be either blood or red paint, but I'd rather not check. Also,the rose petals littering the floor, which were and odd blue hue. I opened the door, only to see a Lady in Blue greedily picking apart a blue rose. Once she saw me, her interest in the rose disappitated, and it was easy to retrieve the curious blue rose while avoiding the Lady._

_Once I had the rose, and proudly walked to the man. I nearly shoved it in his face, the wilted petal clinging for dear life. Then I realized: wilted petals, life. with the rose in hand, I rushed back to the vase, dropping it in along with my own. as the bright colour returned to it's petals, I couldn't help but smile. It was too beautiful to be real, much like my own. As the rose finished healing itself, I ran back to the man. I held it out to him, waiting to see his face._

The dream changed, and rose petals were falling from the top of my sight like a movie screen.

_Garry and I could only watch as Mary walked away with his rose. I was waiting for him to just take it by force. It was serious, he shouldn't have to trade lives. Mary didn't know what she was dealing with._

_Garry handed me my blooming red rose. "Garry, I'm sorry." I said quietly. He shouldn't have had to do that! "What are you apologizing for? We'll just run over and get Mary to give my back my rose." He said simply, and with such a sad smile I nearly cried. There was panic and acceptance in his eyes. Garry stood up, taking my hand as the pieces of art scattered about the room came to life. Even the mannequin heads were in action, but by that time so were we, Garry leading me quickly out of the toybox._

_We were now in a long hallway. There were Garry's rose petals all on the ground, and I felt Garry's hand tighten. We walked down, and eventually Garry stopped, or rather, collapsed. I instantly asked him if he was alright. "I don't want to lie, but I don't want to tell you the truth, either." I sighed. "Go on ahead."_

_"Garry.."_

_"I'll be fine. Go on ahead without me. I'll come running if you need help."_

Endless dreams, cycling through my mind. My eyes darted across my eyelids, a cold sweat forming. I wanted to wake up, my body awake but not my mind. The dreams were too vivid to be dreams, and I found myself whining. I was conscious of my body and my unconscious memories, a somewhat morbid experience, for I feared I would never wake up.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

The only thing on my mind was finding Ib. I couldn't even think about anything at some point. Trying all the doors, only one of which was unlocked. I stepped through the door, giving an involuntary shudder upon seeing mounds of dolls, just in piles dominating a large majority of the room. What part of the floor not covered by blue dolls was covered by mannequin heads. There was no free space on the floor, dolls plied up to ten feet high in some places. In the large painting on the wall was a single key, waiting for me to grab it.

I took a small step, my foot sinking into a doll's head. Blood was seeping from it's neck, causing me to rapidly take a step. My foot landed on a mannequin head, and crushed it, causing me to fall in the direction my foot sank. I collapsed into a pile of blue dolls, red paint oozing onto my shirt. In my face was smiling doll in a cheerful pink dress, murder in it's beady red eyes. I might've imagined that part, but still. I desperately stood up, sending a few dolls flying in the process. My shoe was now soaked in paint/blood, as well as some of my shirt. I quickly made my way to the painting, trying to make my steps as light as possible, but still managing to crush a sizable amount of dolls. It felt good, but I had a feeling it would come back on me later.

Once I reached a empty section of floor in front of the painting, I realized I could have waded through the dolls, my feet on the floor pushing dolls out of the way as I walked. I mentally slapped myself, and grasped the key in hand. As I pulled the metal from the painting, I gazed around the room. This was awfully familiar to another scarring key in hand, I took the safer alternative to reaching the other end of the room, at the door in no time.

My hand on the knob, I prayed it would open. A breath, then I turned the knob. It stuck. "No, no." I begged. I tried again, sighing in relief as the knob turned and the door swung open. "Thank you!" I silently prayed. With the key in hand, I happily jogged to the door I presumed Ib was behind. Garry was still guarding the door, unconscious. I inserted the key in the lock, sighing when it was too small. The key to this door was grand, not a simple key but something important. I wondered what was behind the door. I'd have to progress either way.

I pocketed the key, and walked back to the doll room. Beside it was a door that was locked, and as I inserted the key, it made a sound. I walked inside, to see a plain room other than a painting with a section of the key to the hallway door, another key, a chess piece, and a scrap of a painting all resting in an open treasure chest. I reached my hand inside the painting, but it was on a lock of some sort, even a painting couldn't get to it. On the plaque, wasn't the title, or so I'd hoped, but a phrase, a request. _Give the blood of our children._ A thought crossed my mind. I stamped the plaque with my shoe, a smudge of the doll blood smearing off.

It was a bit creepy, but I wasn't complaining.

The painting flashed, and when I reached my hand in, I was able to slip through the canvas. I grabbed the keys and chess piece, and as a second thought took the painting shred as well. It showed a young girl's face, a smiling one. Her orange hair tumbled down her shoulders, red eyes dull yet inquisitive. her shoulders suggested her arms were out, so maybe she was holding someone's hands. I shoved everything into my pockets, except for the key in my hand.

I exited the room, using the key to open the door to the left of the one I had left. I yearned for human interaction, willing the next room to hold the rest of the key so I could go to Ib. The door, opened, revealing a large portrait of a girl holding hands with a young man, and on the other hand, who else than Mary herself. There was evidence of a knife thrown at the girl's heart, the man's body in shreds. The girl's face was missing, and as I placed the shred where it belonged, the entire painting repaired itself in front of my eyes. A voice called form the painting, taking me off guard.

"Hey, thanks for getting my face." It was a young girl's voice. I took a step back, but replied.

"...You're welcome. What's your name?" I asked, trying to be as friendly as possible to the now live girl inside her painting, who was looking at me with a grin.

"Jamie."

"Nice to meet you, Jamie. I'm Art...were you a visitor of the true gallery before coming here and...dying?" She looked saddened.

"Yeah, so you're just like me, Garry."

"It's Art."

"Not really, but if that's what you want to believe."

I shook my head. "So...who's your friend?"

"You know Mary, and James." Mary's painting was still, and James shifted awkwardly. I nodded my head, and he returned the greeting.

"Anyway," she began, "what you search for is behind our painting." She gave me a smile, before her painting froze. I stared at her blankly. I lifted the frame, and attached to the back of her painting was another section of the key. The previous part was the handle, and I held the neck in my hand. I puled the other third from my pocket, piecing the two together. There must've been another door I missed, because that was the last door, and this room had no key.

As I walked from the room with no destination, I noticed there was a new door that had definitely not been there before. I opened the door, happy I didn't need another key. it was a room of bookcases, a few slightly out, one of which I pulled out and glanced over. in the front page was a note: _check behind the bookcase._ There were plenty bookcases, but I looked behind the bookcase the book came from. scribbled on it were the words_ FUN PICTURES_ I remembered seeing that name in the old gallery, so I scoped the bookcases until I found it. instead of the picture book, there was only one page, with the message_ Look at the door. _I strolled over to the door, with the three word I really didn't want to follow: _Look behind you._ I whirled around, sighing in relief as nothing was there. At least, until I looked down. On the floor was the teeth o the key.

I scooped the key third, attaching it to the rest of the key. I felt content. I had my key to Ib, and I would find her rose, and she would love me. Maybe the last thing was a stretch, but it was a dream. I slipped the key into my pocket, my heart light as I walked to Ib.

**Adieu mes fans affectueuses! Make sure you keep reviewing and following, even while I won't be able to be here for awhile. I've decided to make multiple endings, so people can decide for themselves which is the 'true' ending...Because it's all in the eye of the beholder, and all that. :D I took the liberty of not leaving you with (as much of) a cliffhanger while I'm gone, so be happy. I love you all!**


	12. Ending I

**I'm sorry it took so long for me to update! I love every one of the reviews I've been getting, so make sure you keep reviewing! :) This is the first ending, and probably going to be the most hated. I'll continue the story next week, so don't worry. This is also a bit smaller than usual, so feel bad making you guys wait so long for a small chapter. :/**

**Anyway, hope you guys enjoy and keep reading! I still do not own Ib. (Thankfully for people who don't ship IbxGarry. The entire game would be older Ib and Garry bonding moments. XD) Oh, and this chapter is a bit gruesome, so warning. **

**ENDING I**

_Garry looked at me, quizzical. His hand was surrounding my minuscule one, and as he put on a strong face, I could tell he was shooken. He did, after all, just run into that painting with the wiggling tongue's projectile spit. His small scream made me chuckle a bit. He was pretty cowardly, though he seemed brave when it mattered._

_"Hm? You don't know that word?" He asked, gesturing to the painting of pink and green scribbles, labeled_ ? Art._ I sheepishly nodded._

_"Ah, you want to know the title? It's Abstract Art." Well, that was some valuable information._

_"Which means?" I quietly asked. I blinked my maroon eyes, looking at the painting as he studied my face. I reached a hand to touch the scratchy surface. I had always found comfort in the texture of paintings, but now as thy haunted me, the hairs on my arm stood._

_"Erm, it means...art that's...abstract, I guess." He said, scratching his head of purple hair, somewhat resembling an upside down rose, I noticed. I had tilted my head a bit to notice this, so I was similar to a confused dog._

_"That okay?" I decided to keep my thoughts to myself, however, as I nodded thoughtfully, a small smile on my face._

_Art was lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling as I patched his wound. Our lips were moving, and I remembered the words we spoke, but no sound escaped either of our throats. I looked at him sadly, and he met my eyes. my lips were moving, and Art made his reply. I turned away. This was irritating me now, I knew what we were saying, but I just yearned to hear Art's voice._

_"I know my love for you is more than Garry's love through memories." Art made out. I wanted to cry._

_Mary held my small hand, leading us through the dark hallway. All I could see was her yellow hair bouncing as she hopped forward joyfully. How she could be so happy in the gallery was unbeknownst to me._

_"Ib, is Garry your dad?" She questioned._

_I smiled, but shook my head. "Nope."_

_"Oh, then your dad must be someone else. Is your mom nice, Ib?" These questions were getting ridiculous, but I would play along. _

_"Not when she's mad."_

_"She gets mad at you, Ib?" She laughed. Then she turned silent._

_"...You want to see your parents again soon, right? I want to get out soon, too."_

_We didn't talk for awhile after that._

_We were in a tunnel of light, the cosmos, the...I had no idea. Billions of star-like lights dotted the world, as many as people on the Earth. Maybe that was what they represented. It's cylinder-like shape hardly affected our movement, our being Garry's, Mary's, and mine. The world occasionally shuddered, like a computer glitching, or me during a breakdown, and something would appear that shouldn't. An angler fish would swim past us like it we were closed in a tank. A fraction of our cylinder world, like a broken glass shard, would black out. The entire world was in broken pieces. Bits of the world were hazy, some things discoloured. I did not like our little world in the slightest._

_Mary slowly drew her palette knife, the blade already blood stained. The deranged smirk on her face is apparent. Mary was dressed in a tattered robe, black from hood to bottom. She resembled Death. I clutched Garry's arm, tight. His face was frozen in a devoid expression. No reaction. Garry's eyes were hollow, and he looked sickly, awaiting Death. Mary lurched forward, and, before I could stop her, drew her knife across Garry's throat, who made no effort to resist. Blood, black blood instantly flooded from his neck, over his shirt, exited his mouth. I leaped to catch him, my arms encircling his thin body. Though he might've been unnaturally thin at the moment, I still was pulled down with his weight. As his body hit the ground, a large majority of the world had blacked out instantly. The glass shards were mostly darkened. Mary had her face hidden in the hood as she turned away, walking in the opposite direction. I looked at her for a moment, but quickly returned my attention to the body in my arms._

_The hairs on my arms prickled at his sight. The blood at his neck had already stopped flowing, and had crusted over as if he had spent years dead instead of seconds. His flesh was pulling back, his complexion white as snow. Blueish tinted, even. My eyes stared at his neck. It was...moving. The skin was bubbling, being kicked out from the inside. Suddenly the skin just opened, giving up. Art was climbing from his neck, and as a elf at that. He was so small it was hard to tell it was him. Art had risen from his ashes like a phoenix, and stumbled across Garry's coat towards me with arms outstretched, expecting a hug. I dropped Garry's body, the minuscule Art getting shaken in the process. I took a step away. I expected to smash into the cylinder walls, which were now entirely pitch-black, but I was submerged in water. It plugged my ears, cold water drenching every inch of me. I closed my eyes, and let it._

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I tossed the key between my hands, walking through the hallway. I was itching to see her again, I feared I would make an incredibly reckless move. I passed the painting of time, noticing how the doves previously seemed to be just outrunning time, but now they were running away from it. It possibly was my stimulated mind tricking itself. Something about the way the feathers were ruffled, how the wings were captured, maybe the expression in the beady eyes.

I shook my head, realizing I had spent a while just gazing at the painting when I could be with Ib. I still didn't know whether she was there or not, but I had a feeling-no, a premonition-she was here. I began to walk down the increasingly narrow hallway. Again, that might've just been my mind, but at times I had to rotate my body to pass until it branched back out. Of course I never actually touched the wall, but it was necessary. By the time I was at the door, my mind was jostled.

Garry was still unconscious, resting by the door. I placed the key into the lock, my hand resting on the ornate handle. I deep breath, then I pulled the door open.

The moment I spotted Ib on the bed, I rushed towards her. I restrained myself from pulling her into an embrace, instead, jostling her shoulder. "Ib. wake up." She didn't even stir. Garry's memories didn't say she was that deep of a sleeper, she awoke from her nightmare from me-Garry-placing a book on a shelf rather frustrated. When she asked him what he was reading, he pulled a random book from the shelf, and read the cover. The book he had been previously reading was a random book, but with side notes from the reader, underlining words like: _weakness, love, abandonment._ Weakness and love were connected by an equal sign, making me scowl. It seemed this was how Guertena thought. He must have been through a major heart break to think that.

I shook Ib's shoulder more roughly, repeating her name louder. "Ib. Ib...Ib, It's time to wake up. Come back to me." By this time, I was holding her by both shoulders, shaking her body back and forth. I let her go, and she fell back onto her pillow without any energy. Her body was paler than usual, and her skin surrounding her eyes was gaunt. I pushed her eye open, letting out a small gasp of despair as I saw her iris was faded. It's original maroon hue had faded into a colour more resembling brown, or the colour of maroon in the shadows, if that made any sense.

I closed her eyelid, putting my arm around her shoulders. I slid under the covers, burying her head into my chest. I could feel tears falling from my eyes. _Ib..._ I thought. _Ib is dead._ What was there to live for anymore? Mary? The crazed woman sent a chill down my spine, causing me to hold Ib's corpse tighter. Ib's _corpse._ This was wrong. Maybe Guertena was right. Love made you vulnerable, and then your own mistakes took that away from you. It was better to put up a wall. All of this pain from showing kindness to a lost girl in a twisted art gallery.

I held Ib's thin body closer to my chest. She also was very sick anyways, that was apparent from holding her hardly there body in my arms. It wasn't that she was anorexic, more that she was sickly. Memories of her shuddering and trying to hide it, notations i simply brushed off flooded through my mind. This was wrong.

All of this was _wrong._ Ib was supposed to be alive and well to supply me with small smiles that gave me the drive to move on. Staring at her serene dead face, I could see the hint of that small smile. Whatever she had been dreaming about made her smile. I gave a crooked smile, and gave her pale forehead a kiss. It was cold.

As if to interrupt my thinking, the door burst open. At the door was none other than Garry, wild and lost. He took a look at Ib in my arms, instantly running over. He looked at her, then me. "Why are you holding her sleeping?" He asked.  
"Do you really think she's sleeping?" I answered dully. All I wanted was to hold her, be with her forever. Garry looked at Ib, his eyes cloudy, before turning around and leaving the room. Of course, without closing the door. I began to call out, but I just pulled back the covers, getting up to do it myself. Garry seemed angry more than anything else. Of course, why wouldn't he be? It was my fault. I killed Ib. My fault. All my fault.

My hand rested on the door knob, pushing it closed. I was outside of the room. I couldn't stand to be with her anymore...I had to think. I stumbled across the large room. It seemed different. The first door I saw was the door I entered, and then I acknowledged the atmosphere was different. I heard Garry giggling rather loudly from the other side of the room, then going silent. His giggling soon continued until they diminished into ramblings. He was completely insane. I opened the door, and entered the room. It was an empty room...other than a single red room hanging from the ceiling, seemingly attached to nothing. It was formed into a noose. Under the noose was a stool.

My thoughts were blurry as I sipped the rope around my throat, made sure it was tight and kicked the stool away. I immediately began convulsing, my body desperate for the air the rope was cutting off. The only clear thought I had as my world went numb was Guertena's words of truth:

Love=Weakness.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I had been watching from behind the door as Art hung himself. I loved him, so I let him. It would be better for him. I noticed his face still held the scar I gave him, and I smiled. Once Art's body stopped convulsing, I moved my from hiding spot. He probably didn't remember it, but in a break of madness before committing suicide, he had broke the skin on his wrist and wrote many messages on the walls, each the same. What else, but the message that haunted him? Each message read _Love=Weakness_. I didn't agree last words, personally, but I wasn't one to complain. I was just happy we could be together, forever.

But first I had to do something.

I armed my palette knife, and left the room that held my love's corpse. I strolled through the hallways of the dungeon. Passing the painting of the doves being chased by the clock hand, I saw Garry's shuddering body. He saw me, and stood up. The grin was apparent on his face. I quickly pushed him into the door, and slid the blade along his throat. Once his corpse sunk down, staining the door blocking Ib from me with the beautiful colours, I visibly relaxed._ Much better._  
I opened the bloody door, the knife dripping with Garry's blood. I looked over Ib's corpse resting on Father's bed, and drove the blade into her already dead heart. It didn't matter. I was a bit frustrated no blood met the wound, but it didn't make a difference. I felt better then.

I exited the room, closing the door silently behind me. I walked back to Art's body, pulling the door closed once I was inside, as well. I pulled the rope from his neck, Art's body falling to the floor instantly. I curled into the curve of his collapsed body, still a bit warm. I pulled the extra fabric of his coat around me, digging my face into his shirt. I didn't want to look at Art's painting in the corner of the room, sided by my own. His painting was empty of roses, while mine had a couple left. It had destroyed itself. It was in shreds, the roses missing and tears in the canvas. Not to mention the frame itself was warped. His once handsome painting was ruined.

And then I realized something bad: I was alone.

I shook my head. I had Art. I closed my eyes, and with the comfort of Art's lifeless body, I drifted off to sleep.

_I was hiding from that shadows, a talent I was quite proud of at this point. They were in the same room that tricked the shadows. The girl was starting to succumb to the darkness, the shadows nipping at her face, and body. Before Ib had died, while her pitiful heart was still beating, I was spying on my pride and joy and his plaything. Funny how he chose to lure the one he was modeled for's sister. Fake had given Roslyn Ib's rose, which she held in her hand. I know I had given him orders to kill Ib, but it was somewhat sad to see._

_At the moment the girl was sitting across from him, Ib's red rose in hand. She plucked a single petal from the stem, smiling giddily as if she knew it's significance. She plucked another petal off, then another, and another, until each and every one of the petals was lying with it's brothers and sisters in a heap on the floor. As the last petal fell, it was somewhat beautiful. The red colour looked like blood dripping. I smiled._

_Ib was dead._

I opened my eyes, unable to rest. As I saw the scene in the room, I pulled Art close and took a scoot backwards. My dolls were surrounding us on the floor. Art's corpse had attracted dozens of them. Any other day I would have welcomed them, but now was not the time. A doll-my favourite, in fact-in the white dress had a strong hold with it's stubs for arm's on Art's coat. I tugged the fabric away, and the only affect was more dolls entering the room, overwhelming me.

More of the dolls were engaging me in a tug of war over Art. I was done. "Stop." I said in a demanding tone. They had no reaction. I had lost my control over them. I was losing, losing tug of war, along with my grip on Art. His corpse was tugged away from me, and I was tackled. Dolls entered my vision, and all I could see was the blue fabric being coated in Art's remaining blood. They didn't just slash him open, they were eating him. I didn't even know they were capable of eating. Over the dolls, I saw the smaller dolls attacking Art's dead painting and my own. My painting was dying.

I didn't want this, this was wrong. It wasn't supposed to go like this. Art was supposed to be mine forever, me and him living-well, me living, him...existing?-in the gallery together. Forever. Now my own creations were betraying me. Stabbing me in the back, literally. Even Red Eyes had left his painting, and I closed my eyes as his killer claws entered my back and exited my stomach. I hardly even put up a fight. It was useless. at least, now, I could be with Art.

_You've been starving us, Momma._

That was the only thing I remember before my limbs were pulled apart, my painting being torn, and my own creations reclaimed me.

**Hope you guys liked the first ending! Kind of an even more twisted version of the Welcome to the World of Guertena ending in 04, right? This is the first of many, and the story will continue as normal for awhile before the next ending. Hope it's not too much of a inconvenience.**

**Keep reviewing, and following! I love you all! :3**


	13. Chapter 11

**I'm sorry for the delayed update, and am sad to say my family will be going on a vacation, so I won't be able to write as often. The next few couple updates will be scattered, but I suppose so have the last few. Again, I'm sorry! **

I would have happily skipped over to the room with Ib, key in hand, but I stole an uneasy glance down the hall with the room I had last seen Ib's rose in. I felt I would be better safe than sorry to see if I could retrieve it, so I tucked the ornate key deep inside my pocket and headed off towards the dreaded door. My steps were quick, for I thought if I went fast enough I could outrun the dread and fear of that horrid room. The uncomfortable stinging in my face were Mary had left her scar of 'Love' was a blatant reminder of what she was capable of. Seeing the Fake pin Garry down like he was made of flowers and rainbows with only a foot was enough for me to realize how strong he was.

Soon enough I found myself staring at the dreaded door that guarded the Room of Shadows, my special name for it. The ink running through my veins turned to ice as my hand settled on the cold handle, and I took especial interest in the delicately modest fashion of the golden door handle. With each new level of the gallery we traversed, the decoration of things altered slightly. Things like the colour of the walls and floors, to the change from door knobs to handles. These little differenceswere things I took pride in noticing, and also helped my level of calm. A boost of pride as well as tranquility was always helpful that Hell trap. My mind wandered to what outcomes could occur of me entering that room, and none of them particularly held my liking, all but for the chance it would be saving Ib's life. Swallowing all of my fears and doubts, I turned the handle with a shuddering hand.

Before I could push the door open, I felt eyes on me, and turned around quietly. Mary entered my vision, swinging the palette knife in one hand, seemingly assisting the other by letting it rest across her chest, her hand on the crook of her elbow. Her eyes were narrowed, but her mouth in a pleasant curve. In her eyes was a delighted expression laced with poison. "How quaint. I was just about to finish here, then go to visit you,_ my love_." I flinched at her last words, which were heavy laden with madness and quickly followed by a devilish giggle. But deep under her words was need, a young girl under neath who was just confused, trapped, and afraid. Mary was desperate for love, at the very least, someone who enjoyed her company.

"Mary." I said, wasting no time in warm greetings or smiles. In a quick stride, my hand was clutched around Mary's neck.

"Give me Ib's rose!" I called.

Mary's simply turned her head aside, and made a jab at me with her knife. the blade lodged under my ribcage, causing me to spring from her and tear the knife from my body. I threw it recklessly back at her, blood pouring instantly. Thankfully, paintings had no inner organs. Nevertheless, it was bad. I was desperate for a vase at this point. I tore my gaze from my wound to where Mary stood, but she was missing. I turned around rapidly, but she had fled from the area entirely.

I heard her silky voice echo from seemingly everywhere, and I looked in the direction it seemed strongest, causing my head to whip back and forth multiple times. "Ib's rose is inside. Better hurry." She teased delightedly.

_'Better hurry'? What the fuck did that mean?_ I mentally screamed.

I instantly dashed inside the door I had been slow to enter before. I ignored the silent feel of my heart cracking, and stared at my sister sitting by my own impostor. _No, I'm being possessive._ Garry's sister and his impostor. My sister was nonexistent and I was one and the same with his 'impostor'. I shook my head at my own self-pity and took long strides towards the two at the other side of the room.

The shadows were a form of judgement, I'd noticed in my panic, and revealed the darkness and insanity in Fake by preying on his edges, making it look like seeing from the light side of a tunnel. The shadows completely dominated his head, perhaps signifying insanity, as well as where his heart lied, signifying darkness. There was only enough lack of shadows to be able to see the maniacal grin on Fake's face. Roslyn was shadowed in her mind, but not her heart. There was still hope for her.

_Right?_

I shook my head. _Of course._ I was now so close I was looking down at Roslyn, who was staring at me with Ib's red rose in one hand, with only a couple petals left, her hand paused with the second-to last petal in between it's fingers. I looked at her with a shocked expression. Not necessarily shocked, more horrified.

"Roslyn..."

She looked up at me, her faded blue eyes hardly visble through the shadows. Even though lack of light served as a veil, I could see the intense blue. Her expression was a bit quizzical, her face hardly changed at all.

"Who are you?" I sucked in a breath, hearing her words. Perhaps it would be better to say Garry, for that was destined for better results than my true name, but I was stupidly righteous at the moment.

"Art. I'm Art."

Her expression hardly changed, but her features seemed amused.

"That's an ironic pun, isn't it?" Of course, the only moment she shows any emotion is a snide one.

"Very. Now, If you don't mind, could you please return Ib's rose to me?"

She looked at the flower in her hand, as if weighing it's importance to me against her greed.

"Mm...I don't think so." She gave an innocent giggle.

All the while Fake had been remarkably quiet, not even stirring. I had been extremely patient as well, but this was pushing the limits.

I took a breath, and pulled back my hand. I was about to pull an Ib. I let my hand come in contact with the soft flesh of her face with force, and while she held her raw cheek, I stole the rose from her grasp. Because of the force, her body shook, and her hand pulled a petal form the stem, leaving only one sole petal on the rose. I shook the thought of Ib's body suffering damage and she didn't know why. The moment I took te rose, I made a break for running form the room. Fake would have went after me on Roslyn's command, as I had noticed he acted on her whim, and nothing more, but for some reason she didn't send him after me like the hunting dog owner she was. It's not like I was complaining, though. Just surprised.

"Ai-chan!" I heard as I was just about to reach the door. Apparently Roslyn had snapped from the shock, as well as her insanity. As I turned around, I saw her still clutching her cheek but now standing at her knees, reaching out to me. Her eyebrows were pleading, but her eyes were dull. She was just an empty shell at this point, just a puppet with a twisted mind of it's own. Looking at her now made my skin crawl, the hairs along my arms standing up in goosebumps. My hand shuddered, resting on the door frame.

"Please, come back! I need you!"

I knew better than that.

"It's a little late for that." I said, and walked out the door with a tinge of regret.

I stood, staring at the large door that had eluded me for so long. A single red rose was clutched in my hand, the paintbrush I had tucked into my pocket after using to replenish my painting long ago peeking from my jacket pocket. Only a single petal held onto the dying stem of the red stood beside me, clutching a blue rose with eight petals. He had joined my party of one once I shook him awake, arriving at the door.

I wasted no time in placing the key inside the keyhole, but hesitated in turning the lock. Garry nudged my arm impatiently, and I finally unlocked to door. Garry immediately opened the door, leaving me hesitant in the doorway as he strode towards Ib. I hurriedly ran after him, watched him carress her cheek. I scoped the room from beside the bed, and upon seeing a vase by the doorway trotted over. I dropped the rose in the vase, watching the petals slowly reform and the stem grow greener, stronger.

"Her breathing's steadyi-oh!"

I turned around, to see Ib's eyes flutter open. They were a bit muddled, but curious as she sat up in her bed instantly. Her legs swung over the side of the bed, rustlingthe sheets. She had bed head, which I found charming as she smoothed it out. Her wide eyes blinked once, twice, as she opened her mouth to say something before Garry embraced her.

I plucked the rose from the vase, and walked over, my eyes never leaving Ib. She was engulfed in the hug from Garry, and was smiling into his shoulder. She closed her eyes and rested her hands around his back. I could only smile bitterly to myself as Garry muttered words only Ib could hear. Jealousy overcame me, but remained level headed. I didn't have any right to be jealous. The only way Ib and I could be together was if she remained in the gallery forever, or Garry died.

The sad truth finally dawned on me. I didn't want her to suffer, I decided. I would help her escape. That was all I could do.

By the time I arrived at the bed, Ib and Garry had been chatting it up, but then were embracing once again. It wasn't that large a room, but I had taken longer than a turtle would, spacing out at the vase. As I handed Ib her rose with a forced smile, she flashed me a wide grin I couldn't not truly smile back at. As the corners of my lips tilted up, she spoke with a tired voice.

"Good morning."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_I fell through the wall of the cylinder prison after witnessing the horrible scene, and was enveloped in darkness. All hope was lost, and I was floating in oblivion. I felt like I was sinking in black paint, matter pushing down on me. The matter filled my eyes, nose, mouth, but I wasn't empty of breath or choking. A strange feeling, and all I wanted was to escape._

Is this...death?

_When I had no doubts I was dead, a hand reached through the darkness. I pushed myself to better reach it, and curiously gazed at it before launching myself at it. My hand gripped the other's, and I was pulled from the arms of death._

I forced my eyelids open, and felt sick, but I sat up. I swung my legs over the beds, and the toes of my boots touched the floor. Smoothing my hair out, I peered at the two around the room. I locked eyes with Art holding rose, before I turned my gaze to Garry sitting the foot of the bed. His face made me smile, and I was pulled into a hug. I carefully held him back, burying my face in his shoulder. I was smiling, but light tears escaped my eyes and fell onto his coat.

"Ib, I'm so happy you're okay. You had me worried, you wouldn't wake up."

I pulled back from the hug, staring at the floor as I spoke again not to avoid his gaze, but just absent-mindedly. "I think I was dead for a moment..."

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say.

"Ib! Are you alright? Do you have a pulse? Are you alive? Do you-" I hushed him with a finger to his lips. His random spew of questions were unintelligible, and completely out of panic, without purpose or logically reasoning. Before I could answer his questions, he gazed at me with a seductive look that caused me to remove my finger, turn away, and blush all in the same moment. He laughed, making me sheepishly chuckle along.

"I am most definitely not dead." I said, chuckling wholeheartedly, while ignoring the look from earlier. I couldn't bear to bring that up, especially when a light vermillion colour was dusting his cheeks. He looked sheepishly to the side, but didn't seem to regret, for it did make me smile. Garry, even in his most distressed, can always make me smile. I smiled to myself, happily. "I'm glad you aren't too fazed. Anyway, what even happened?"

The smile slipped from his face. "Well...I was unconscious for quite some time, so you'll have to ask...your saviour." He looked over to Art, who was staring at the vase of water. He said 'your saviour' quite bitterly, so I could tell it was true, even though he hated to admit it.

I felt his warm hand hover mine uncertainly, then lightly grasp my hand. He looked up at me as if to make sure I wouldn't retrieve my hand, then closed his hand around mine. His thumb ran across my knuckles, and he smiled into my eyes. I gazed at his crystal blue orbs with a dreamy expression. I knew in his arms I would always be safe, and I leaned against his chest to ease my anxiety. Anxiety caused from the gallery, caused from being alone, separation from my parents... Thinking of my mom and dad brought tears to my eyes. I had only fleeting thoughts of them before, but now I could dwell on the subject. Even though I really didn't want to.

Feeling my body shake with the sobs, Garry pulled me from him so he could face me. "What's wrong?" Be fore I could answer, and held me close to his chest again, comforting me as one would a baby.

After awhile like that, Art returned, my rose in hand. I pulled from the hug, and took the rose from his outstretched hand with a wide smile. It was all too familiar from some dollar store romance novel, the gentleman on his knees presenting his lady a single red rose. Art wasn't exactly on his knees, but close enough. It made me happy as he finally smiled back, and I had to subdue a delayed yawn before speaking:

"Good morning." He had an exasperated smile, trying to laugh at my lame joke. It was tinted with sadness, for there was no way to tell time there anymore. No way to tell if it was morning or nine in the afternoon. No sun for a sundial, no watches or clocks that would work once passing through to the gallery. It was a sad reality we had come to. Being in the gallery for so long, I had started to thing morning's homonym was more accurate, mourning. We had seen many a corpse or memorial by that point.

"Close your eyes." Art instructed. I obliged, though I was lost on why he needed me to do so. Next he did something I could have never anticipated: he leaned down and planted a kiss on my forehead, then two quick kisses on my eyelids, before nonchalantly patting my hair.

"You'd better keep that rose safe." He said simply, and I nodded carefully. I noticed his cheeks were completely flushed, and he was just trying to distract himself as well as me from what he had just done. I stole a glance from Garry, who looked slightly irritated. Art, capturing my attention once again, took my hand. I turned back to him only to see his gentle smile. "Can you stand? We'd better move quickly." He helped me from the bed, and once more I was overcome with the feeling I was some medieval woman and he my prince. With these thoughts, my cheeks pinkened, and I earned a questioning gaze from Art.

I took back my hand quickly, wiping the sweat off onto my skirt, before folding my hands behind my back. I never had a problem with holding either of their hands before, so I was dramatically confused. "Yes, let's go." I said, nodding.

Art's expression softened, and in sensing I wasn't eager to hold his hand at the moment, folded his hands behind his head. Garry quietly stood up, and crossed to my other side. He gave me a smile, and then returned to his devoid mask. He seemed to know I didn't want to do any hand-holding anytime soon, as well.

We exited the room in our awkward trio, and Mary's absence hit me like a wave. "Where's Mary?" Art looked overcome in grief, and fear. A form previously blended with the shadows emerged, a form with bouncy golden hair and a single palette knife in one hand. The palette knife was older, so it was actually sharp, rather than the rounded point of modern palette knives."How nice of you to be concerned for me, Ib." Her tone was nice enough, but the look in her eyes led me to believe she had gone off the edge.

"Mary..."

"Mary. I'm Mary... Maaary, I'm Maaarry!" She exclaimed. Her pupils shrinkened, and she ran towards us, giggling all the way. Garry and Art, in the same moment, pushed me behind their backs. Mary took a slash, and black ink blended with red blood in a collision, as both bodies sunk towards the ground, collapsing against each other. I could only stare in horror, my body shaking with the force of my laboured breathing.

"GARRY!" I screamed, holding his body to my chest. To my extreme joy and relief, I could feel his small puffs of breath. I turned to Art, whispering his name a thousand times over as I held him close. He, as well, was hardly hanging onto life.

A sharp object was thrown my way, and I saw a shard of glass skid across the floor and come to a halt at my feet.

"A lovely exchange, but you'd better get your battle face on if you want to safe them." She was brandishing the knife like a sword, and I clutched the glass shard in my hand so tight blood seeped from my grip.

I stood slowly, bangs covering my eyes, which were darting around the area, calculating how to best defeat her. I had been previously warded from danger, and look where that got Art and Garry. I had to save them on my own. The foot-long shard gave a metallic ring as it was lifted from the ground. Without warning, I ran towards Mary, holding the glass like a samurai sword. Within range, I slashed the blade at Mary, who leapt away.

"It isn't nice to start before 'go', Ib." She said, obviously not too bothered by it.

Mary took the distance between us to her advantage, and jabbed at me the moment after I stepped back. I flipped the glass shard in the air, holding the wider end in my hand now, and jabbed Mary, pushing the arm with her knife back by the shoulder. The sharp side ending with a deadly point was sticking from her stomach area. I kicked her body out from the blade, which I grasped tightly once again.

As I turned away, I heard her voice, harsh for breath. "Why...didn't you kill me?"

I answered her easily without turning around. "I'm not a killer."

She chuckled bitterly, coughing up ink in the process. "Yeah, like you're not some insane murder like me."

"I'm not." I answered coldly.

I heard her laboured breathing, and another set of coughs. "Look at yourself, then."

I cast my gaze to the glass shard, and in my reflection I saw knotted hair, bloodshot 'demon' eyes, and blood of Garry's, Art's, and Mary's, not to mention Mary's blood on the glass itself. I dropped the bloody mirror, instantly. It fell to the floor with a crash, glass spilling across the floor, and I thought I saw a smirk in Mary's eyes. Mary's right. But, she can't be. I'd never hurt...I never wanted to hurt anyone.* My hopeless thoughts were whispered, and echoed through my mind.

"No...I'm not...insane. Or a killer. I've never killed anyone."

Mary snorted. "That may be true, but you've definitely got the potential. And I'd hate to tell you, but you are in fact, at least halfway almost a bit insane." Her ramblings were laced with giggles, blood coughing, and toxin. I fell to my knees, my eyes shut tight to prevent the tears from falling off my face. I blindly groped the ground for the glass shard. Tears were proof of humanity, right? At least I had my tears to assure myself. I opened my eyes, and my hand brushed the edge of a large chip of the glass.

"Besides, you're not the only mad one here. We're one in the same."

_No._

"We could be together, forever."

_No._

"Just you and me, Ib."

"NO!"

I swung the glass blindly, finally chucking it in a random direction before collapsing into a fit of sobs. The last shard of glass exploded into chips, and random glass chips dug into my legs as I cried.

"Funny how I'm the one-*cough* who's bleeding out, and you're the one who's-*cough* having a breakdown."

I felt a hand on my arm, causing my to spin around. It was Art, with a forced smile, and the other hand against the deepest part of his gash. He was bleeding, battered, and yet here he was, supporting me. He had a gash on his face, a stab wound on his side, and now half of Mary's first attack, going from below his rib cage on the right side to his hip on the opposite side. Garry pushed himself up, failing once or twice, before standing on weak legs, and staggering towards me. Blood spattered onto the floor in front of me, and he sunk to his knees and pulled me into his arms. I could feel his harsh breathing, as well as his shaking hands. I pulled my arms around him, crying into his chest. He smelled of the coppery tint of blood, and sweat. His heartbeat was erratic, but at least it wasn't slowing to a stop.

"Let's go, Ib." I heard Art say from behind me. I nodded against Garry's chest.


	14. Chapter 12

**Here is the next chapter! A little late, but it's here! I think I'll only have one more full chapter, and then a few endings. Keep reviewing, favouriting, following, as much as you want, it's very much appreciated. I love you guys! And, I do not own Ib. (Finally remembered it after this long.) **

As I pulled back from the hug, Garry enveloping me, I felt his dead weight collapse on top of me. I instantly tried to pull him from me to examine him, and found he was unconscious after prying him off of me, and checking his pulse. Art, clutching his side, chuckled bitterly. I slung Garry's arm around my shoulder, and held him up by his waist. Art held Garry on his other side, mimicking my pose. We started walking towards a door that seemed new, or else I hadn't noticed it, in unspoken agreement. Art seemed to be slightly less harmed. He only bared the lesser half of the attack, while Garry took the half crossing his chest. Also the fact paintings seemed to be able to take more damage, since they were only alive due to Guertena's spirit.

I took a glance behind me to Mary, holding her wound and sitting against the wall. I never wanted to hurt her. She forced me to do that to her. I knew I was just convincing myself I was innocent with empty reasoning. Mary thought she could defeat me, purely because she's never seen me fight. Once I freed the gallery when I was nine, I had the strangest urge to learn something to protect myself. My father eagerly called his old sensei to teach me everything about the way of the sword, and soon enough I became the only girl in the 6-9 year old class in Karate. I was one of the only kids in that class who actually pursued the sport. Still, I never wanted for Mary to be hurt, especially by me. I wished she had stayed with me. We could have been friends, together. If only I could have been enough to with hold her madness. Being locked in the gallery would drive anyone insane, especially one who had next to no hopes of escaping.

"Hey." Art's calming and curious voice snapped me from my thoughts. Art had been unusually quiet, leaving me to my usual silence. But also for awhile, he hadn't been himself around me. Even then, he seemed he'd rather return to silence.

"What's wrong?" His query seemed hollow.

"What do you mean?" I asked him dryly. My focus remained on the path before us and the rhythm of our footsteps. We arrived at the door, and I opened it silently. The scene before us nearly caused me to drop Garry. Art let him fall through his hands, and I nearly fell from the weight.

"Oh...my." Was all I could say. Art couldn't say anything at all, just blink, trying to unsee the what he had just witnessed, turning away.

I set Garry's body by the door, on the other side of the wall. I took the blue rose from his pocket and tucked it into mine. In the room was a scene I'm just glad I hadn't seen in my first visit, if I had escaped alive. It would have scarred me for life and could, even at my age. I took a step forward, reaching out to touch the skull of a probably innocent visitor at the gallery. There was still bloody flesh clinging to it's surface. I ran my hand across the jawline. Despite the bits of flesh, the bone seemed bleached. All around the room were skeletons, or rather, corpses, for some hadn't entirely decomposed. Each of them were hanging, held from tall stakes that connected floor and ceiling. Most were in groups, from threes to countless amounts, all together, but one of the skeletons hung alone. The smell was horrible, and if the entire scene wasn't enough, blood was splattered across the walls. At the end of the large room, was a painting.

There was a...I still don't know how to describe _it_. It seemed masculine, and it was hanging out from the corner of it's frame, holding ii's head with a clawed hand as if bored. It had a devilish smirk that went from ear to ear full of razor teeth. It had no eyes, but a tattoo-like imprint on it's forehead of a vertical, red eye. It's mane of shaggy black hair that would fall into it's eyes, had it had any, parted just so the imprint would show. It was wearing black rags, arranged in the fashion of a robe, or a cloak. It's skin was deathly pale, and greyed around the area or his black claws. The background of the painting showed the same scene in the room, save for Art, Garry, it and it's painting, and I. The hand not holding his head was danging out of the frame, holding a eye probably from one of the skeletons. It threw the eye down, then turned it's head to me.

I stared him in the smooth area where it's eyes should go, and it's grin turned it's corners downward. Art turned around, and looked between me and it, hurriedly.

"Ib, don't look at him. And-" He took my hand. "Don't touch the skeletons." He peered at my face, my gaze still glued to it.

"Let's go." He said. I only shook my head.

After awhile, I explained. "We can only go forward this way."

I lifted my foot forward, and it's grin lifted. I couldn't trust him one bit. I took my foot back, replacing it next to my other, and his face fell, casting into a frown. A grin of my own made it's way to my face, and turned to the left. I reached out my foot as if I would step on the square of the floor beneath my foot, and looked to the thing for conformation. Sure enough, his face remained a frown. I settled onto the square of the floor, taking notice that the floor was like a checkerboard. I looked to Art.

"Follow after me, exactly." He seemed hesitant, but stepped to the square I had previously been on.

I used this method for most of the checkerboard floor, enough so the image of it grinning, then frowning would be forever engraved into my head, memory loss or not. We had done circles, loops around stakes, fork roads, and having to turn back to find the right way, which looked like a coiling snake. Soon enough, I came to a square where in all the squares surrounding me, it's grin was apparent. this was the only way forward, we had confirmed from heavily checking the entire route we had taken. I reached out to the square past the one directly in front of me, and my balance was tested. His grin never changed, and I was falling onto the square rapidly.

"Dammit..." I managed before I began falling.

Art took hold of my arm, taking me in my fall, and redirecting me into his arms. I was pulled onto his square of the room, so we were pressed against each other. He was hugging me, and all I could do was use my hands against his coat-on his _chest_-to make a small space between us. Well, other than my breasts smashed against his chest. It was extremely uncomfortable for me, even without that pain. I didn't know why I was so shy of being in that position, especially since we had hugged multiple times before. I could feel a light blush cross my cheeks, just as Art dug his face into my hair.

"I just want a break." He whispered.

I pulled back, my foot settling on my previous square, which was diagonally across from his. I was about to ask him, but he answered my question before I could ask it.

"A break from the gallery, and trying to keep myself from you for your own good." That partly explained why he seemed to so distant lately, but a new question on my mind arised: Why would he want to keep himself from me? I became extremely aware of his hand in my own, even as we were standing apart. I couldn't take my gaze from his crystal blue eyes, but I had to as I pulled my hand back and settled completely back to my old square. he seemed confused, and I'm sure my expression wouldn't help in clearing his mind. I had a forced smile at my lips, but surely he could see the look of reluctance in my eyes. Hugging him was awkward, but I wanted to stay in his arms. Whether I really wanted his arms, or Garry's was still unsure to me.

"I'm sorry, but we've got a job ahead of us. We can talk later." My tone was shaky, even as I tried my best to keep it solid. In the edge of my vision, I could see him nod slightly.

I reached out my foot to the square beside my previous attempt, and to my extreme relief, it's mouth made a frown. I leapt to the new square, as Art stepped to my old one. One more test of the squares later, Art and I were in the safe zone, the couple rows of squares directly in front of the painting.

"Who are you?" I asked, crossing my arms.

It revealed a long, red tongue that dragged across his razor teeth. An inhuman growl rose from it's throat. It didn't seem intelligent enough for communication. Of course not, giving us a pass through his puzzle just by his facial expressions.

Instead, Art took my arm. "Let's just go. See, his frame opened."

Just as Art had pointed out, the frame was hanging off the wall. I led Art through, pushing the painting off on it's hinge. If I was right, this place would hold a vase and Art's painting. Vases seemed to appear whenever they were needed, but not always easily. Well enough, through the painting's door was a small room holding a vase in one corner, and Art's painting in another, as well as some paints and a brush. But, as if that wasn't enough, Mary's dying frame, too. There was only one rose left, with it's couple petals wilting. The glass was already in shards, but one petal was pierced in the glass. I stepped inside, and pulled the petal free. Instead of being velvety, it was stitched, like a fake flower you'd get a the dollar store.

"Art...could you also-"

"Sure." He said, smiling at me.

I could only smile back, without even meaning to.

Almost instantly, I placed Garry's rose with it's last petal at the stem inside the vase. It wasn't like the last, Eternal Blessing, it was only the type that gave only one full rejuvenation. As the petals returned slowly, I twirled my rose with three out of nine petals left. As the water ran out, I stared at the rose in the vase. The water droplets clutched to the stem under the water as if it was their life line, and I found myself making the connection in my mind. We were all the same as those droplets, holding onto a rose so we wouldn't be swept up by everything else. I took the rose from the water with two fingers and my thumb, carefully placed to avoid the thorns on the rose. I tucked the rose into my father's jacket pocket.

My fingers moved from the stem, and they lingered at the soft leather of the worn jacket. I could remember that feel of his large hand in mine as a child, leading me to the gallery. The callous of his hard working hands, from years of farm work before meeting my mother,who came from a wealthy family. That was the story they told me. In my youth, he was always there, kind an thoughtful, always considerate of my views, an treated me like I knew what I was talking about. That's why I tended to prefer my father in my childhood, he wouldn't treat me like the child I was. But even though he treated me like I was mature, he still had his perfect image of me made up. The college I would go to, my career, the amount of kids I would have and the home I would live in. My mother was no better.

My father's face appeared in my head, yet it was faded, and hard to make out the details. I soon found myself wondering simple things, _Was his hair dark brown, or black? Were his eyes charcoal, or hazel?_ I realized my thoughts were in past-tense. Now that I couldn't see him, I figured he was dead, or non existent. This was the same reasoning I had for my non-belief in a greater power, or 'God'. My parents never gave me drive to believe, so I didn't, and made myself my own self-righteous-reasoning behind that.

I turned around, breaking free of the prison of my thoughts, and faced Art, astonished by what I saw.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

As Ib was healing Garry's rose, I took the oil paintbrush from the table holding the palette and paints. I dipped it into the blue pot, and focused on blending the blue and black to create the difference in Garry and I. Ib wanted me to be myself, and that meant pushing myself as far from him as I could. If I could escape the gallery, I would change my face, properly change my hair, too. And most importantly, I'd want to make Ib happy. If I could escape, that would include Garry staying. I wondered if it was Garry's memories and Ib's explanations said it was. I wanted to make my own memories, not live with Garry's life the only thing I have to base the outside off of.

As I finished the last rose of the painting, I held the velvet petal in between my fingers. Previously, the roses I painted had just become part of the painting. But one of the roses seemed too life-like, and it was the last one I painted. The shadows cast off it a different way, from where the light in the room came from, not where the light was positioned in the original canvas. I reached out to touch the canvas, but my finger went past the coarse surface of the canvas, and I felt the petal of the rose at my finger. I took the rose from it's brethren, the stem still connected with the vines and other roses. I pulled it off, and held the rose in my hand. It was real.

I turned the petal over and over in my fingers. It was real, graspable, a concrete thing. But I shouldn't have been able to hold it.

"Art? Is that...real?" Ib's soft voice broke me from my thoughts. She walked to me, and I handed her the rose, our hands meeting for a moment. We each paid it no mind, but my heart was leaping from my chest.

"I think it is. Mary's wasn't like this, right?" She shook her head.

"Hers was like it was made of cloth. I think-it's real." She looked up at me. Her crimson eyes were full of pain, as if she had been thinking of something less than a happy topic.

"Hey." I took her face in my hand.

"What were you thinking about?" I asked, carefully choosing my words. She looked up at me, almost reluctantly. She opened her mouth, but closed it soon after. She shook her head, and lowered it. Before I could lift it so make her see me, she faced me with an obviously forced smile. She didn't want to burden me with her troubles. Ib had her own logic that no normal person could understand. She need to talk about those things, but I knew pushing her to speak would only end badly.

"Ib.."

"What were you saying before, in the...other room?"

My face heated up. I was hoping she would forget about that.

"Well. I...what part?" I gave her a measly grin.

Ib twirled my rose in her hands, and placed it behind my ear, and fixed the collar of my coat. I could only stare at her with a lop-sided grin. She was teasing me, now. Dancing around the question. She had a small smile on her face as she fiddled with a ripped end of my collar. Her hands brushed my neck and I tilted my head, and my hair fell into my other eye. The cloth slipped through her fingers, and she looked up into my eyes. She pushed my hair from the eye usually uncovered, and removed her hands from me, almost reluctantly.

"You know, the part about 'keeping myself from you for your own good.' What was that about?" Her teasing tone dropped, and she looked at me with concern in her eyes. I placed my hand on her shoulder, and pressed a kiss onto her forehead.

"We can't all get out of here. That's all you need to know." I said. I took my hand from her shoulder, and the rose from my ear. I took a petal off, and cringed as pain shot through my body. Cuts came upon my hands, and the blood visible was black.

"I guess it's really...real." Ib nodded, and I placed it in her hands. I looked at her wide eyes, ignoring her gaping mouth. She seemed to sense from my expression I wanted her to hold it.

"There's no one I would trust more." _Myself included_ I mentally added. Ib was silent. I remembered Ib's request, and picked up the brush again. I moved to Mary's painting, and dipped the brush into the yellow paint. I carefully re-painted the roses, hoping I could create a true rose for her, just as I had for myself. Ib sensed my concentration, and settled into the corner, holding the three of our roses together. Black, blue, and red. It felt odd, healing the girl who nearly killed Garry and I. Not to mention tried to kill Ib. The brush slipped from my hand, making a long yellow mark down the rest of the painting. I quickly picked up the brush, but I couldn't fix the mark.

By the time I had finished each of the roses, Garry entered the room with a surprise. Roslyn was following close behind him. Fake, surprisingly, wasn't shadowing her.

"Garry?" Ib queried.

"Roslyn has something for you." His tone seemed like he knew nothing more than us.

Roslyn walked straight for Ib, and I felt myself tense. I put down the brush, then stood behind Ib. Mary could have easily convinced her to do something to Ib, maybe hurt her, and I didn't want that to happen. Instead of the knife I was expecting, Roslyn took her rose from her jacket. Ib looked confused. Roslyn only handed the rose to Ib, who took it with an uncertain hand. She looked between me, Roslyn, and the rose carefully.

"For you." Rosyln said.

"Didn't you find it, Art?" She asked me. I nodded.

"I must've dropped it..." I said, distracted. My eyes were on the lilac rose in Ib's hands. In one motion, I took the flower from Ib, and began pulling the petals off, bunches by bunches. Ib tried to take the rose from me, but I wouldn't let her. Garry was staring, unmovable, at me. In a moment the stem was bare, and Roslyn's body fell to the floor. A moment after, Garry's fist collided with my face. I held my eye under my hair with my hand, and I felt some blood trickle from the edge of my eye socket. I took away my hand, then looked up to Garry.

"Go ahead." I told Garry, allowing him punch me, kick me, whatever. He looked like he'd love to punch me more, but he just looked to Rosyln. He kneeled down, and held her corpse in his arms. He gazed at her, love, hate, and regret all in his eyes. The full weight of my action dawned on me. I had _killed_ someone, my sister, Garry's sister, so Ib would be better off. Garry closed her eyelids, then set her head down on the floor. Ib was staring, silently, wide-eyed at Rosyln. Garry stood up, and Ib hugged him. I took a step back as Garry cried into Ib's hair. He had to lean down a bit to do it, though.

"Ib...I'm sorry."

She didn't reply.

"Garry...you know, I didn't want to...hurt Roslyn."

Garry lashed out, pushing Ib from him as he yelled at me. "Well, you did. Happy now? And you don't have any right to say her name. Go."

I stared at him, dumb struck.

"Go." Garry repeated.

"Garry..." Ib whispered. He clenched his fists.

"Garry, listen to yourself." Ib pursued. "I know what he did was unforgivable, but I'm not letting you cast him away to die."

"Why would he die? He's one of them. A painting, without a soul, feeling, or conscience."

He was right. I was nothing but paint, and a nine year old's grief. I was nothing close to human. Only a fool like myself would believe that could change, or I could escape the gallery. Escape to be with Ib. Ib was just a fantasy I had no hope of making mine. All my grief, all my pain, started with this gallery. Where I made my humble home, my 'birth place' and my prison. I didn't want to admit, but I was happy that Ib was dragged into all of this. It's selfish, and only proving Garry right, I had no bearing on right and wrong. But since her coming here, I've been...happy. I've experienced happiness for my own, by myself, thanks to Ib and Ib alone. Her smile was contagious, how rare it was. Of course, Garry wasn't a nice addition, but she made Ib smile. More than I ever could. Ib was special, and I wanted to see her with someone who made her feel happy. Like she made me, and I wasn't entirely sure I could supply the true experience of happiness to her like she could to me. I couldn't be selfish and hold her to myself, when she wouldn't be happy. Feeling content, being able to express joy, express herself with no limits. I wanted her to be in love, and not have to feel like she has to make a choice. I would wait her out to the world's end, just to make sure she could be happy with whomever she would choose, Garry, or I, or someone completely different. As long as she was happy. In love, without weakness.

Ib had shown me weakness wasn't love. They weren't synonyms, after all. Love was trusting someone with your life, and them trusting you when it came to it. I would trust Ib to lead me through a mine field, or in our case, a chessboard from Hell, and when she was in need, I'd help her from slipping. Not having to doubt yourself, knowing, believing that in the end, the one who loves you will take you all in all, good and bad. Ib didn't mind I was a painting, fabricated. My heart was fabricated, and she hardly minded. Hours going by and feeling like seconds. I could stare at her smiling face forever, and I'd be content. Just so long as she was happy. Somehow, even with my fabricated heart, I knew I loved her. Loved her like the sun loves the moon, and the moon loves the sun. Forever chasing each other, even if the universe is against them.

I finally reverted my attention to the scene before me, and I was taken aback by Garry's hand outstretched, asking for truce. He was looking away, and Ib seemed satisfied, with a content look in her eye.

"So, truce or not?" Garry repeated, looking at me like this wasn't only the second time saying this.

"Eh? Ah...alright." I took his hand, and we both gave an equally hearty shake. I was focused on Ib who was looking between us with a smile on he face.

"I'm so happy I could convince you two to work it out." She said, holding her hands in front of her. I took her hand, smiling at her while gazing at her eyes.

"Of course. It was all you, Ib." I still had no idea what had gone on during my space out, but everything seemed sorted out.

"Hey!" Garry came between us, breaking apart our hands.

"Rule one of our truce, No touching Ib, at all! Rule two, no speaking to each other! Rule three, Ib holds all roses." He went on, but that was about where I unfocused, yet again. He said no talking to each other, so I'd be silent. Fine by me.

"Hey? No 'sorry', no 'my apologies?"

I remained silent.

"Speak!"

Ib giggled. "Rule two, Garry."

Garry's face flushed. "Oh, well."


	15. Chapter 13

**So this is the last chapter, guys. The rest will be endings, and lots of them. I hope you guys like! **

**Remember to favourite, review, whatever! All support is great. :) **

My eyes tracked everything like a video recorder, Ib smiling, laughing at my bashfulness, and the coy glint in her eye all the while. She seemed able to be herself when around Art and I, and for that I was grateful. But whatever went on when I was unconscious made her apprehensive, and Art distracted. Ib was happy, but also had the gaze of someone knowing their happiness is doomed to end, and is trying to hold on the best they could. I wanted to keep her happy for as long as I could. And somehow, something told me she was happier in the gallery, with Art and I, then she would be with her parents, in her normal world. But living in the gallery is no way to live, and I became determined to get her out. We would make it out, and if Ib wished, live in a world separate from her old like. Away from her parents, just her and I trying to make our way in the world. But of course, that was just a fantasy. The only way to achieve it would be to get rid of Art. I didn't want to do what would be necessary for him to back off. I just had to let Ib chose. A 50/50 chance of my fantasy becoming real.

Art was the only one standing in my way, and after he killed Roslyn, I was seriously considering murdering him. But it was to protect Ib, I saw that. but he was all to comfortable with murder. I just feared he was turning me into him. Funny how I was worried about turning into him after he had spent he last -however long we had spent with him, there was no way to tell time in that place- while trying to differentiate himself from me. I had to deal with him like a man, and for the time being I had to laugh it off and hope Ib didn't think I was a psychopath in doing so.

I put my hand on Ib's shoulder. I gave her a smile, and took in her sweet smile back. I wanted to remember her smile, if we ever would be separated. I wanted to make Ib happy, have the best for her. Free her. But I wanted to be the right choice, the one who could do those things. I hoped I really was the better man. But I was selfish. Even if I wasn't the better man, I wanted her for myself. Ib was the only one for me, and what kept me alive, and also saved my life in the gallery, on multiple occasions. Even when she was young. Ib was the only woman who made me feel alive, not following a routine. Seeing Art's steel glare, removed my hand like Ib was a burning stove.

"I forgot about the rules...again." I used as my excuse.

"How about we trash the rules altogether?" Art suggested, off-offhandedly. All this after killing Roslyn, I didn't know how to handle it. I clenched my fists, and I immediately responded, lurching forward as I did.

"_No_." Ib gave a sideways glance, surprised at me. I fixed my jacket collar. "I mean, as much as they're an inconvenience to me, it's also a prop for me, to you." I was proud of myself on how well I calmed myself down, but that may have been Ib's look that gave me a sense of what I did was out of line.

Art gave a chuckle. "That goes both ways, my friend."

I nearly punched him, then and there. "You're not any friend of mine."

Suddenly, Ib burst into quiet, Ib-laughter. To a normal person, that would be quietly chuckling, but to us, it would have been a normal person rolling on the floor wile laughing. "You two...so I suppose Rule Two is nonexistent, is it?"

Art answered her for me. "I guess, I mean we can't stay away from each other's throats'." I simply nodded. Ib smiled to herself, before folding her hands, and walking towards the door.

"We'd better get moving." She said, self-assuredly. Without a word from either of us, Art and I followed her. I was happy she was getting better at taking charge of her own life. I was happy for her, and I felt I could really say I loved her. it was the most amazing feeling, but it sent me to Hell when I could see Art felt the same way for her. Ib, it was harder to see if she loved either of us the same way. Now I could understand why Ib would always tell us not to say 'I love you' so easy. I didn't then. I only thought I did because of what we had endured together.

She opened the canvas-door, and inhaled a sharp breath. I protectively peeked my head though the door while pushing her back. I scoped the room, seeing nothing but white walls, same as when I had passed through before. I turned back to Ib.

"What's the problem?"

Instead, Art answered for me.

"Everything's...gone." Ib only nodded.

"In this place, it's not too strange, I guess." I shrugged it off. Ib looked like a question on her mind was lifted, but still, she seemed a bit confused.

"That's good, then. That room..." The gaunt look in her eyes was interrupted once Art peered into her face, a small smile to reassure her.

"Was a bit unsettling, to say the least, but we're past it." His tone was a bit questioning, and with a timid smile, Ib nodded.

Art still mimicked my style of speaking occasionally, I'd noticed. I remembered when young Ib told me I talked 'like a lady.' I had taken it as a youth's harmless remark originally, but then, realizing I had hardly changed since the last time I had seen her, I wondered if Ib viewed me as feminine. The horrible realization dawned upon me, and my mouth took a horrified form, and with the eyes to match. I shook the overwhelming expression from my face before anyone noticed. As Ib turned around to look me in the eye, I quickly put on a fake smile that subsided into a grimace. Ib raised a questioning eyebrow, but she stopped herself then faced me with a sweet smile, and took my hand. The grimace faded, and a light smile tempted my lips. I hoped her small bouts of interaction were evidence that she didn't think I was to womanly. But, at the least, I knew if she thought anything negative of me, she thought the same of Art. Despite his best efforts, he wasn't too different from me.

I noticed in her other hand, she held Art's hand. He didn't look like he was complaining too much. That relived my worries of Art becoming sour over the worthless rules, but now I realized they held no weight and he didn't think much of them either.

"I think we can safely say the rules are terminated." She said happily. Art and I nodded, hopefully not in sync.

She hopped down to the floor, leaving us to follow. Ib looked around the room, a strange look in her eyes. Whatever was there in the first place, she didn't like much. I wondered what it could've been, but came to the ultimate conclusion I wouldn't get it from either of them. I wanted to protect her best I could, and mentally scorned Art for not doing so when he could, and I couldn't._ If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself._ I told myself. I gave Ib's hand a reassuring squeeze, and she returned it as if to say she appreciated it.

We all walked to the end of the room, Ib and Art rushing to escape it as soon as possible, dragging me behind. Art opened the door, and sighed, seeing it was yet another complete scenery change. Instead of the old dungeon, it was a maze, the walls coloured a deep purple. It was more of a winding tunnel then a maze, but there were multiple paths, three to be exact. Two led into complete darkness, while the third, in the centre, someone could see the path ahead. In silent agreement, we all trudged into the centre tunnel.

I was a bit annoyed of this gallery. It was getting old, and I wanted to get Ib out as soon as possible. Something told me we were nearing the end, however. Still, I was tired of the mazes, dark atmosphere, and the chill you got when sanding still for too long, staring at any piece from Guertena. Ib was growing weaker and weaker with each scare she received, even if she didn't show it. Her pale hand made it seem like holding somone's hand was terribly energy-consuming. Art was annoyingly fine with everything he faced. Of course he would, living in the gallery all his pitiful life. I couldn't say I was too out of place in the gallery either, though. I knew Ib relied on us for mental support, so I had forced myself to become invulnerable to the galley's twists and turns, for her. Immediately, from Ib saving me the first time, I switched into protection-mode, however ill-fitted I was to the task. Over time, it became natural.

We were silent for awhile, following the thankfully straight path. Silence seemed to be our medicine, gave us time to think. There was plenty of that in the gallery, though the soundless illusion of the gallery was capable of driving some insane. I was completely content with this devious silence, until Ib spoke. Hearing her voice reminded me silence wasn't all it's cracked up to be.

"Could you two make me a promise?" She asked, training her eyes to the path ahead. Her hand in mine, I realized, was cold. The warm illusion I received was from my own body heat heating her. I had a uneasy feeling about this 'promise' she was asking of us.

"Depends..." Art said edgily, revealing his own uneasiness.

"If I am unable to continue, in any way, or I...die, you two have to move on. Without me." She said. A tear was forming in the corner of her eye. I was astonished. Art made our chain come to a halt.

"Where is this coming from?" He asked, bewilderingly.

"..."

"I promise, Ib. I trust you." My voice came out hoarse, as I hadn't used it in awhile. I cupped her hand, bringing warmth to her. She looked at me, her eyes sad, but somewhat happy. Whatever was bugging her, I wanted to sooth her in any way I could, and that meant fulfilling her wishes, no matter how crazy they were. Ib knew what she wanted, and I trusted her decision. Ib nodded. That wasn't any chivalrous act, it was my sense of what was best.

"I'm sorry, Ib, but I can't promise you that. I'll protect you, not abandon you, no matter what." _Typical Art_ I huffed. He made my answer seem selfish. Without looking at him, Ib answered him quietly.

"I understand."

We moved forward, Ib's hands then in her pockets. My hands surprisingly became cold, without the presence of Ib's hands, however ice-cold they were. The halls were growing darker by the steep, and until we simultaneously bumped into the wall in complete darkness, we were in constant motion. I ran my hands along the wall, trying to assure myself we were in fact at a dead end. Art and I bumped into each other, confirming ourselves we were trapped.

"We should turn back." Art said. Ib didn't respond, just fell into step beside him. I stood still for a moment, then followed the other two. I exhaled, in defeat.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Art and Garry were actually less surprised then I had expected. I supposed that was a good thing, I had prepared for them to completely start a brawl after they had two different opinions. They simply moved past the subject, I was relieved.

When we faced the dead end, I was cursing all the gods I had knowledge of. I wanted to get _out_. I wasn't sure how much longer I could stay in the gallery. It wasn't good for my heath, or my mental health. Though a part of me was wondering if I really did want to go. The part of me was the part that favoured Art. I knew paintings could escape the Fabricated World, but that would mean Garry's demise. There was the option of making a home of the gallery, like Art, Mary, and the other gallery pieces. But I wasn't a painting. I could try to live there, I could really try, but in the end I feared my efforts would be useless. The Garry part only reigned my mind because it was allies with common sense, but there was the saying 'Love is unconditional.' I supposed that somewhat applied to my situation.

I couldn't survive in the gallery for long, I knew that. With my history of sickness, and my mental state, it was a race on which would be my undoing: a vengeful Mary, insanity, or death from illness. That was why I asked them to promise me. Though from their responses, I knew Art wouldn't leave me if I perished. I wanted him to move on, with my death he could escape, perhaps find someone who loved him and only him. That was what I wished for him.

As we walked, the light wasn't returning. The way there had been increasingly darker, but now it wasn't changing at all. It was bugging me, and my eyes kept darting around, flocking to the point of my sight that looked like it had the most light. I didn't like the dark, and never did. I wasn't afraid of it as a child, I just preferred to keep to the darkness where I could see my surroundings, not the utter darkness that consumed all light.

Every so often, Garry would bump into something because we were immersed in darkness, and I knew it was one of the statues with the coloured shape at the chest, instantly, somehow. These statues weren't even there when we had entered. I wondered if they had followed us, and I nearly spoke up to ask Art or Garry, but I realized neither of them had mentioned bumping into statues. I decided to keep my mouth shut.

We arrived at where we had begun, the light overwhelming my eyes. I felt Art's hand take mine. I turned to him, about to ask him what he was doing, but he silenced me with his lips on mine. It was a tender kiss, and I didn't pull away, but I didn't react, either. My eyes we wide open, I could practically feel the love radiating from his lips. Our moment was short-lived, because it only took a moment for Garry to notice us staying still. He lightly took my shoulder, and pulled me away. I didn't react in anyway, and I felt like some kind of doll, unable to make a move without someone to guide me. I stared at the floor, until I heard the sickening sound of Garry's hand against Art's face.

I couldn't do anything. I couldn't make a move to stop them, couldn't fix what I had done. All I could do was stare at them.

"Please..." I made out, gripping my hair. The struggle came to a halt, I could tell even though I was facing the floor by the sounds and cursing stopping.

"I just want to go on. Please, let's go. Together..." I took one of each of their hands, my own shaking lightly. I finally looked up, to see Garry with a black eye and Art with a swollen cheek, each of them bleeding. Art's nose seemed bent oddly. Blood ran from his nostril, and I had to hold back both tears and wanted to scold both of them like they were children.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Garry, with a smile that said _Don't worry about it, alright?_ Art was looking down at his feet from behind me, holding onto my hand like an angry child who still wanted their parent's hand, and I turned once he spoke.

"Smile, then. Let's make a deal, we move forward together, but you have to smile."_ How could I deny him that?_ I thought. His sweet gesture made me smile, and Art lifted his head. His harsh expression softened upon seeing my face.

"Yeah, like that. Your smile's beautiful." His cheeks were light pink, and my own started to heat up. Before I could respond, Garry tugged on my arm.

"Let's go, then." He said in a faux happy voice, a forced smile at his lips. I nodded, a light chuckle coming from my mouth as I caught in step beside Garry, Art following soon after, and we walked to the center of the room to browse our choices. We stood staring at the three doorways, the one we had just passed through darkened. I was so happy to be back in the light.

Previously the other two doors were blackened, but then another was lighted, the one to the far left. Like before, we headed to the door, starting to get a feel for the 'maze.' I hypothesized once we eliminated that hallway, the right most door would be light, and lead somewhere else.

Just like the first path, as we walked through it became dark. We were once again left the darkness and the silence, things I was quite familiar with no matter how I despised them. Often, I would stay silent around people because I didn't know how to interact. Garry and Art were technically childhood friends, Garry more than Art. I had met them before I became worse in my anti-socialness, traumatized behaviour, and all the things that led me to the mental facility. I was there because of the gallery, my strange antics appearing a year after the gallery visit, and the nightmares began to plague me. I never remembered them, not ever. Maybe little things, like _rose, Garry, paint, knife._ The dark of the entire place, the growl the Ladies of the Colours created, or the flashing of the fabric of one of the Headless Statues' dresses.

Soon, we reached another wall. We finally turned around, heading towards the last path. That path was full of many twists and turns, although it was shorter. We were immersed in darkness again, and we forced to make our way back. I gripped Garry's arm, leaning my head against it in exhaustion. He brushed a hair from my face, and helped me to walk forward. We made it through somehow, and soon found ourselves at the main entrance.

_This is the end_, I thought. _We've almost made it._

I wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not. I figured not having to choose and be totally ignored by men would be much easier, less conflicting and heart break. I just wanted to know I made the right choice, and not hurt anyone. Though, I knew it would end in a bang, other than everyone happy.

We walked through the final door, and I felt my courage fade, what little was left of it. I dug my nails into Garry's arm as we were submerged in the complete darkness. Garry pulled his arm around me, tearing me from Art. I immediately cuddled up to him, loving the warmth he had. I couldn't tell what Art was doing, but I heard the rustling of his coat that suggested he stuck his hands into his pockets, basking in his silent fury. I didn't want to make him angry, and I couldn't break from Garry just to comfort Art. I sighed, exasperated.

Soon, the path started getting lighter, and my hold on Garry slackened, though his arm pulled me closer. I looked up at him, and seeing his smiling face brought a smile to my lips, however small. the world around us was light enough to be dusk, so we could see the occasional white statue with the symbol on the chest that I felt Garry bump into multiple times on the right side of the hall. At the left, where Art was, there were painting on the wall. One of them, apparently the light source, a small picture of a sunrise going over a hill. Art didn't look at it, only stare at Garry and I. Garry was intently focused ahead, not at Art. He was speechless, his mouth slightly agape. As I turned my head to look at what had him so shocked, I saw a yellow blur.

Instantly, I knew it was Mary. I reached into my pockets, hoping I had something, anything to protect myself. I came out empty-handed, but clenched my fists at my side. I wanted to talk her through it, try to convince her to..._to what, exactly? Stay in the gallery, sitting patiently for eternity, waiting for a friend who would never come? Or maybe let us pass by with a scolding?_ I knew Mary wouldn't do anything but what she wanted to do. I only hoped hurting us wasn't what she wanted.

"Mary... I'm sorry." I realized the it was fact, and the words flowed from my mouth. I held my hand to my chest, a tear escaping from my eye, and falling onto my hand.

"I'm sorry you are stuck in the gallery, I'm sorry I burnt your painting, I'm sorry I hurt you, I'm sorry, sorry I never understood you...Mary, I'm sorry." I heard the clang of her palette knife dropping the floor, and I looked up with teary eyes to see Mary had tears running down her face as well.

I looked around to see Art and Garry, leaning on either wall, staring each other down. They knew I had to handle it myself, and were fighting their own private battles as I made up with Mary.

"I never wanted to hurt you Ib. I just wanted a friend, and Garry was between us. The only thing I thought of to solve it was kill him, and so I did. You did the right thing, burning me. I'm sorry too, Ib. I lost grip of my conscience, and lost hold of my bit of humanity, just so I could have you to myself. I wanted to trap you here, Ib. I wanted to keep you in the gallery for myself, so we could spend our time here. I would protect you, and the only thing I had to fear would be you. It was perfect, in my mind." By that time, Mary had collapsed into my arms, and we were sitting on the floor. I was smoothing down Mary's hair as she talked muffled into my chest. A tear fell from my eye onto her hair, and Mary looked up.

"Don't cry, Ib." She said through her own tears.

"Mary, I can't express to you how sorry I am, but I'm just happy we're back together." I said, choking back sobs, although happy ones. Mary looked down, disappointment in her eyes.

"About that, I'm going to met with you later. I'm sorry Ib, but you can't follow me. I'm doing this for you." She stood up, and I hurriedly followed her.

"But-" I made out before Mary cut me off.

"I'll meet back up with you later. I promise." It took one look into her eyes to tell she probably wouldn't meet with her promise. But I couldn't deny her this. Whatever she needed to do, she needed to do. I nodded, feeling my hopes slip away. Mary ran off into the darkness behind us, and a hand touched my shoulder. I looked up to see Art, with a reassuring smile and a hand held out for me. I took his hand, tentatively, and he helped me up.

I let go of his hand, and walked over to the painting of a sunrise on the wall, taking it off and holding it out. We now had our light source, and we could trudge ahead.

Neither of them asked about Mary, which I was thankful for. I wasn't sure if I could handle their questioning there and then. Occasionally, a tear would escape, and crash onto the painting with a sizzle, evaporating instantly, causing steam to come off. Art and Garry could see when I cried, because the walls darkened a bit with the fading light for a moment. Neither touched me, Just left me to be alone. In my nerve-wrecked state, I registered that as bad, and wished they had comforted me. Later I realized it was best.

I was silent, hugging myself-with the painting hanging from my hand- and staring emotionless at the ground. I walked forward as I heard Mary's steps diminish. Even without the painting, we could see vaguely the shapes of the walls, and the occasional statue. My nerves relaxed as the room grew brighter, our synchronized steps drawing closer to the continuation of the maze, I guessed. The dreaded feeling of my world coming to an end was overwhelming, and as I played with the red fabric of my skirt to calm down, the feeling only got worse. We were walking straight into my worst nightmare.

We walked in complete silence and solitude for awhile. We were together, but separated. Goosebumps made their home on my arms, which were drawn around me in an attempt to keep warm, as well as calm. Suddenly, I was pulled into Garry's arms. He held me close to my chest, and as I stood motionless in his arms, I began to cry into his chest. I grasped bunches of his shirt, and practically collapsed on top of him once the full gravity of Mary's arrival then quick departure. Garry took a step back to assure his balance, then held me back from him and took my hand, and I tucked the painting under my arm.

Before we could walk forward, Art tentatively took my hand. As I looked to him, I saw his head was turned, but I could see the lightest hint of a blush at his cheeks. Art blushed with every romantic thing he did, I eventually took it as natural, and even stopped noticing. But in the dull light, with him shying away but still wanting to hold me. I gave his hand a squeeze, and without turning to me, Art squeezed my hand back.

We walked forward in an unspoken agreement, and our steps filled the empty silence. None of us needed words. 'Actions speak louder than words', as they say. But it was rather quiet when we hardly talked in the gallery. Soon, Art spoke up. Seemingly he needed words.

"Ib, whatever choice you make, as long as you're happy, I'm happy. Alright?" I took a step back. At first I didn't know what he was talking about, but then I realized._ What else? Choosing between him and Garry. _

I sighed, placing the hand that used to be in Art's to my forehead. It hurt, but my head had a numbing pain, not a headache.

"I know." I barely made out.

"I just wanted to make sure."

I nodded.

"Ib, I lo-"

"Please, stop with that so much. It's overwhelming. I...don't know how to deal with it. I don't know what to say..." I rambled on, clutching my head and staring at the ground. "Everyone else can express their emotions so freely, but I was never taught that. Half of my life, I never heard my parents say those three damned words. I don't know. I don't know what to do."

"It's alright, Ib. Come on. The sooner we get out of here, the better." Art said, holding his hand to me again. I wasn't so sure if what he said was true.

My small breakdown was over, and everything was back in order. Each of us had left somethings unsaid, especially Garry, who neglected to say anything. But we were a chain connected by interlocking hands again, and we walked on. I tried to ignore the dreaded feeling in the pit of my stomach as we neared a light area. It was a great circular room, with doors at every angle, every inch of space. Art dropped my hand and began examining the doors, while Garry's hand went tense. I looked up at him, and saw his face was stony. He let go of my hand, and looked at each of the doors as well. I looked around, and became dizzy, looking at all of them in a circle. Art and Garry were doing everything from opening the doors, to observing at every angle, and so I felt useless standing in the centre, so I found a door and mimicked their testing.

Soon enough, Art called out.

"I think we should go through this one." He said, gesturing to a door with dusty rose coloured wood. The handle was ornate and bronze, as well at the hinges. There was a small light coming from under the door, as well as the rest.

Garry shook his head. "No, it's this one." His rose was a slate grey, with a modern silver handle and black frame.

"Garry, I'm telling you, we should go here."

"I've got a bad feeling about that one. Ib, come on, let's go here."

"Ib is coming with me, through _this_ door. Right, Ib?"

"I thought you said you just wanted her to be happy, no matter who she chose?"

"Of course I want her to be happy. But now I realize she can't be happy with you. Ib, come on."

"Ib and I are going here."

"_Ib_!" They said in unison, looking to me and leaving me to stand there and stare, wondering how things had gotten so messed up. I took a step back, and Garry opened the door, passed through, and left it agape. His footsteps were echoing through the hall, until Art did the same.

I was left totally and immeasurably alone. Left to decide who I wanted to go on with.


	16. Ending II

**This is the second ending! I've got A LOT more planned, so don't get mad at the ending! XD **

**ENDING II: At Least We're Together**

I clenched my fists, and forced myself into making the decision. My eyes darted between the blue door Art went into, and the grey Garry chose. I closed my eyes, thinking over everything that had happened to that point. Garry's smile flashed in my mind, and I was reminded of every good thing he had done for me. Still, Art's the fact of delicate shyness-in some things-and how protective both of them were was driving me insane. I took a deep breath, and made my decision, knowing I'd be breaking a heart. I knew it would kill me inside, and I could only hope he understood. I took the steps toward the door my future lied behind, and began to hear my doubts voicing their opinions. I pushed the door open, knowing my doubts would only be put to rest once I officially made my decision, no going back.

He wasn't waiting outside the door, but that was hardly expected. I fruitlessly rearranged my hair just like a normal girl my age would before going on a date. I wondered if I could have been happy being normal. I wouldn't have to worry about dying at every twist and turn, instead I'd be worrying if my crush noticed me. It definitely seemed simpler. My hands fell to my sides, and I realized:_ Of course it's simpler. But it's not the life I want. My life's with him, now._ It chilled me to the bone to finally admit it. It felt good. I took the first step towards him, quickly followed by another, and another. Eventually I was in a sprint, grinning my face off while closing the distance between us. The dark tunnels took my vision, but I ran straight ahead, which was the path the tunnel followed. After I began getting tired, I ran straight into him.

"_Oof._" He nearly lost his breath as I barreled into his back. He turned towards me, and with my butt on the floor, I looked up at him.

"Ib?" He called out into the dark. I could barely see his form, his lips faintly moving into a smile as he advanced towards me, scooping me into his arms. I buried my face in the crook of his neck, his violet hair tickling my skin. _Garry._ I loved him with every fiber of my being. Being there, with him, assured me I loved him.

"Garry... I...I love you." Garry only tightened his grip on me as if he would never let go.

"I know. I love you too, Ib."

"No, you don't." I said. I had held it in enough. "You deserve to know. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I-" Garry cut me off with a kiss, which was passionate to the extent of my hands tangled in his violet hair, and his hands holding me close. We were perfect. Garry pulled away, having to take a breath. He dove in for another kiss, but I stopped him.

"We should go on. We have to keep moving." He reluctantly agreed. As we stood up, he held my hand. I wanted to be with him for eternity and on. With him, it felt so right.

_He is the original_. A voice from the back of my mind spoke.

"What?" I said, darting around. Garry put his hand on my shoulder.

"You alright?" I nodded, shrugging his hand off, then facing him with my best fake grin.

"Let's go on." I said, tugging on his hand

_Any regrets? Wish you had chosen the painting?_

I shut my eyes, and pulled Garry along. My hands were shaking. I simply had to ignore it, then it's bone chilling voice would disappear. It's voice was even more macabre than it's words. It sounded like nails dragging across the surface of a chalkboard, murdering an elephant, or some large creature. My mind began weaving the mask the voice would take. It was the voice in my head, so some face to the voice could be somewhat comforting. I began to think of some mask a colour darker than black, and blood pouring out of the eye sockets. _Not good._ I pulled my thought into the direction of cute bunnies, and kittens. The chilling voice then possessed an innocent rabbit.

_Maybe it would be better without either of them._

_Having to chose between two men...you sure get around._

_Do you even love him at all, little whore?_

I was mentally throwing every curse word I knew at Bunny-Face inside my mind. Garry was peering into my face concernedly, but my focus was past his head. A small lamp above was illuminating the wall so you could see the display. It was a disturbing painting of a spider eating a butterfly. I never cared for butterflies, but it still gave me chills. I shook my head. I had seen it before, when I was much younger. No big deal.

"I'm fine, Garry. Honest." He looked at me suspiciously, but we went on smoothly. Before long, my foot caught on a mannequin head set on the floor. My nails on Garry's coat dug deeper. Garry didn't seem to notice, just gaze at a painting of a woman being slaughtered. I couldn't look. Unfortunately, when I looked the other direction, I saw the conclusion, her murderer burning in Hell, literally. As well as me brushing against a statue. My gaze quickly shifted to the other wall, which showed a picture of the Lady in Red, AKA Catori. It was horrible seeing her after her death.

_You never loved him, and never will. And stop trying to convince yourself that you're sane. Don't bother_.

My eyed darted from one gruesome painting to the next.

_I know just how to make you..._

I gripped my hair with my free hand as I sunk to the floor.

_Crack._

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Ib was acting strange. I pretended not to notice her sharp nails grasping my coat for support, because if I had tried to ask her what was going on, she would have brushed me off, like my previous attempts. When her grip slackened, I glanced her way. Her eyes were dull, and she was sitting on the floor, legs sprawled out, and her hand in mine. I saw her back quivering, and I assumed it waas her shivering until I heard her soft chuckle. Her entire being was being shaken by the desperate maniacal chuckle of the insane. _No, no, no no no no no! Ib can't do this. I should have noticed, her strange behaviour. Something must have done this. She was just fine!_ A thought nagged at my mind. I wondered if this would have happened had she chosen Art. I fell to my knees, my hand in hers.

"Ib. Ib, tell what's wrong." I didn't know the first thing about talking somehow from the edge. It was frightening looking into her faded maroon eyes without any of her sparkle in them. All I could look to was my own reflection in her eyes. She didn't respond as if she heard me.

"Ib!" I took her by her shoulders and shook her. I saw her arm twitch a bit, and released my hold. Her head sunk low, and her chuckles stopped. I relaxed, letting myself untense. I saw Ib's arm twitch again, and as I reached out to inspect it, she swung her hand into my face, her closed fist clashing against my jaw at an arch with surprising strength as I was pushed back by the force. I cupped my quickly forming bruise, and looked at Ib, who was standing and starting to walk away.

I scrambled to my feet. I wanted to help her, as much as she'd hurt me, or be unresponsive. I'd try. I heard a sound like glass shattering, and ran to Ib.

I came up behind her, and as I put my hand on her shoulders he swung around with a large shard of glass in her hand.

"Ib-" She plunged the glass into my stomach. For a long moment, it was the gruesome pain of the blade entering the tissue of my stomach, and my intelligible gurgles and gasps. It was the most intense pain I had felt in my quickly ending life. The pain of death. But I couldn't blame Ib. She couldn't control herself, and that was something i should have helped her with. I wanted to tell her that I loved her, with all my heart, but the words wouldn't come out. I guess she wouldn't understand in her state, anyway. I was somewhat happy I would leave the world with remorse, but still love, rather than spite and hatred. Ib removed my body from the glass, and I felt the unforgiving glass sever my major arteries. Whatever slight chance I had at surviving was demolished then. The last thing I saw was Ib's dull eyes, and her wide grin.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I frowned at the foreign body crumpled on the floor. The joy of killing was gone now. My mind was utterly blank, other than the knowledge of my love of killing. The strange man who called me 'Ib' was dead, so all troubles were gone. The glass shard in my hand escaped my grip, and shattered. Some of the small shards lodged in my foot, an I welcomed the pain. Pain brought blood. Which brought death. I was ready for Death at any time.

_Not yet. I'm not done with you yet_. The voice in my head which wore the black mask of bleeding eyes spoke again. I shook my head. I was tired. Looking back at the man's body, I felt somewhat melancholy. Something deep inside me wanted to be free at the sight. I crawled to his body, and lifted his head to see his face. I was taken aback by his crystal blue eye, and dropped his head to support the pain in my own. Memories flushed into my mind, memories of him. His smile, holding his hand, him placing a rose into my hair an voicing his concerns for me. Him telling me he loved me.

_Not me. He doesn't-didn't-love me. He loved Ib._ I thought.

_You were Ib. You could've had his love._ The mask whispered to me.

_I don't want his love._

_I don't miss him at all. It's better now, that's he' gone... I tried to convince myself it was true._

_Stop denying yourself. You loved him as Ib, and you're destined to love him as...the new you_. I could practically feel it's hands on my shoulders, it's breath on my neck.

_I don't belong here. I'm not Ib, I'm not anyone..._ My breathing became harder.

_Correct. You, you nobody, killed the one you love._

_You killed Garry._

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_Humans are so easy to manipulate._ I told the Voice Inside Our Head. I stepped over the Original's body, and over Ib's body. It was a shame, she could have been useful. Her hands rested on a even larger shard of glass the the last, retrieved from the same painting showing a bleeding heart. The glass was lodged in her own heart.

_Of course. They're such weak creatures. _The Voice sounded louder than usual, more clear. I turned around, and saw the Voice's true form. He resembled a medieval jester, dressed in black and adorning a mask darker than black, blood pouring out of the empty eyes. The mask was cut off above the mouth, revealing a bottom half of a face as dark as the eye sockets. He had no mouth, no outstanding facial features-or any at all- but still his voice could reach the minds of those with a potential or insanity.

I kneeled down. "My Lord."

_Oh, shut up. You are here for a reason, are you not?_

I nodded. I reached into the girl's pocket, and retrieved the crumpled and wilted roses of the Original, the Replica, and the girl. I took the petals all in my hand, crushing the wilted petals of the dead and injuring the live one, and pulled all the petals from the stocks. In the gallery, instant death and injury leading to death had different effects on the roses. The key to keep a visitor from life again, was to kill the stock.

I removed a pair of scissors from my coat pocket, and cut the stems from the heads of the flowers. I accidentally cut a strand of thread of my finger, and the stitching came undone. Yarn exploded from my finger since I was fully stuffed. Being a replica like the painting was a hassle, but I was even poorer of a replica designed to look like the original to stimulate Ib's young and crazed mind, but I didn't convince her. Though I did a good enough job the second time.

"I'm done. Now, you said you had a was to reunite me with the Original's sister."

_Of course. You know, I find it humorous you have developed feelings for the human._

I didn't respond.

_I'll reunite you two right away. It said smoothly._

I turned around just enough to see the Voice's very solid hands come up to my neck and break my neck in a smooth movement.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I took my husband's hand, leading him the the upstairs floor of the Guertena exhibit. It was a lovely gallery, The art so real it felt you could jump in at any moment. I was enthralled by the art, but my husband seemed distracted and less than ecstatic to be there.

"We have a new painting on the top floor! Just discovered from Guertena's home!" The peppy tour guide led us upstairs. A sigh from my husband.

"Right over here!" The tour guide gestured to a beautiful and melancholy painting. It showed a man and a woman standing together, but alone. They had their backs to each other, a few inches apart, but they were holding each other's hands, and in their hands a red and blue man, with odd purple hair a beautiful blue eye was looking at the girl from the corner of his eye, while she had her eyes closed. Her long brown hair was spread in mid air around her, and you could tell she was beautiful even without seeing her eyes. The plaque read: _Alone._

"Thank you very much." I said, gazing at the painting.

My husband finally spoke up. "She's beautiful. Imagine if we had a daughter like that."

"Yes, she's very perfect." He brought me into an embrace, and we stared at the painting together.

**How did you like it? This is a bad ending, and more will be explained as the endings go on. All feedback is accepted and wanted, and support is greatly appreciated! **


	17. Ending III

**Here's the third ending! I'll try to get all of these up as fast as possible. By the way, there's probably going to be around ten, I have the plans for ten anyway. I have a favourite...and it's the very last one! :D Mwahahaha...**

**ENDING III: At Least We're Together**

I had an idea of who I wanted to follow by his last words, and headed towards his door before I had the chance to change my mind. I ran towards his door, a smile spreading my face. Thoughts of spending the rest of my life with him made me smile even more. I pulled the door open, and nearly screamed upon seeing Art waiting by the door. It was unexpected, but sweet. I could practically feel my love for him bursting out at the sight of his wide eyes and quickly spreading smile. He walked away from his resting place on the wall, and said my name.

"Ib..."

I threw my arms around him, and he held me close, almost hurting my by his grip. I'm sure my grip was just as strong, though. Art planted a kiss on my forehead.

"Art, I love you. I love you more than you know, more than I can comprehend. It was always there, and I only just realized it. I've been blind for so long. I'll scream it out loud, if you want me to, just so you can understand how much I love you." The words were rambling from my mouth. Before I could continue, I had to take a breath. Art spoke before I could finish.

"I've been waiting for you to say those three little words since I had met you, and now I feel I could die right now and I wouldn't mind. But also, I wouldn't mind if we could start a life together, either." His tone was questioning, and his face was staring at me with pure love, and hope. I looked at him with tears at the corners of my eyes, and gave him a soft kiss on his lips. He looked to me, a bit shocked and a blush spreading his face, before he looked at me with a loving smile.

"Of course. I'd love to, too. Once we get out of here, I have so many plans for us." Art's face fell. Before I could make a comment, he smiled again.

"Yep. C'mon." He held his hand out for me, and forgetting all of my suspicions, I took his hand with a smile.

"Oh, before I forget-" I said, digging my free hand into my pockets. Once I felt the petals of my rose, I pulled it out, holding my red rose out to Art. He seemed shocked.

"Really, Ib?" He took it as he spoke, looking down at the velvet petals. I nodded.

"I trust you." Art smiled up at me. He nodded, and pocketed the rose.

We held hands again, and walked forward. It was empty halls for a long while, and we chatted as we went. It was mostly me, telling him about my plans. He seemed to be a bit melancholy each time I mentioned my dream house, and college, and I was worried he didn't want the same life with me as I wanted with him. I didn't mention anything about it, though.

We walked through the halls in silence after I became worried, and paintings appeared as we passed. It was all random people committing suicide inside the gallery. My grip on Art's hand tightened, and he gave me a reassuring look. We passed two that looked like Art and I hanging ourselves. Art pulled me close, putting his arm around my shoulder as I lied my head on his chest. Listening to his calm heartbeat calmed my own.

"It's alright. We're obviously not dead, so all of these are probably fakes to scare us." I nodded. It made sense.

We walked forward, until we came to a large mural on the wall. It showed a collection of points in my life, my stuffed cat doll, my large collection of stuffed rabbits, my parents. The largest picture of me was me crying as a young girl with my hair in twintails, eyes puffed up and my eyes closed. My whole being went stiff. My breathing was forced, and hard to do. I began to shake, with the weight of breathing hard and my shivers.

"Ib, calm down. It's alright." Art tried to comfort me.

I was hysterical, and had no idea why it was affecting me so much. First the portrait of my parents, then that collage...it was too much for my faint heart. No one could handle something like that after all that had happened up to that point. No one was super-human. I could tell Art seemed to have a hard time dealing with it, too.

"Ib, stay with me." He spoke like I was dying, not losing my mind. Suddenly, I felt my body relax. I felt free.

"Ib...no. Ib. IB!" The man's words came through like they were traveling in a tunnel.

"Who...?" I asked, dreamily.

"What are you talking about, Ib?"

"Ib... I am not Ib. Who?" I meant who was I, who are you, who put me here. A thousand questions in my mind, but all I could make out was:

"WHO IS IT?" I rapidly stood up, and slammed my fist against the glass of a large collage of some girl. I gazed at it, blood from my hands staining the exposed canvas.

"Who?" I asked, before I grabbed a shard of glass from the painting. With the glass, I made a long gash in the canvas of the painting, enjoying the sound of the tear.

"Ib...kill me." I turned towards the man. He kept calling me Ib, for some reason.

"I think...not that you would understand me here-that I'm the reason this is happening to you. Maybe, if I die here, you could benefit. You may not completely heal, but it could stop your condition from becoming wor-"

I didn't need him to finish his rambles. An invitation to kill was always welcomed. I held onto the blade, pushing my foot against his chest that had fallen to the floor, and took the glass from his body. there was something about glass coated in blood that held my awe.

"Ky-uh...ghah...Ple-" I felt a blade enter my body, and looking down, I saw the tip of a sword peeking from the flesh over my stomach. _Please...help me_. I thought. A man-or rather, creature appeared in front of me, and crouched down to my broken body. He had blue felt for skin, red eyes, and thread weaving through his mouth, that detangled itself when he talked, and somehow rearranged itself once he closed his mouth, as if it were animate. He looked similar to that man I had killed.

I clutched my stomach, attempting to pull the sword from my stomach. I horribly failed, only succeeding to make blood pour from my hand, other than the blood already on it.

"Your time is done, Ib." The thing brought another blade from it's belt, and the last thing I remember was his hand with the blade coming near my throat.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Sweetie, they say there's a new painting discovered, by Guertena. I can't want to see it. Do you think it's easy to spot, decorated or something?" I asked eagerly, browsing the paintings.

"Hmm." My husband replied.

"Hmph." I said, mimicking his distracted manner.

"Oh, here it is!" I dragged my husband by his arm, leaning on it as I gazed at the somewhat corrupt, yet still beautiful painting. The new painting was in between 'Lady Taking the Newspaper' and 'Couplet Towers'. It showed a girl with red eyes like my own, except hers filled to the brim with tears, some escaping to her cheeks. She had long, straight brown hair, and blood flowing from wounds on her stomach, and her neck. She should have been dead, but I couldn't complain. She was holding a very dead and very handsome man with purple hair and a shard of glass piercing his heart. There was no blood on him, though, other than droplets from the girl's wounds.

"It's beautiful." I whispered, dreamily.

My husband ran a hand through my hair, feeling the same melancholy-love for it as I did. She  
seemed familiar, but I would never say it aloud. She did look a lot like me, though.

"Yeah. It is."

**I'll be posting another directly after this one. I angered myself on how close Ib's mom was to remembering Ib-I almost made her slip out 'Ib' as she was talking to her husband. XD **

**Anyway, favourite, review, follow! Anything is awesome. **


	18. Ending IV

**This is the second update today, a variation of all our favourites: Ib All Alone! :D For some reason, Ib's misery is pretty easy to type. **

**Ending IV: Ib All Alone**

I looked between the two doors, glancing back and forth until my head hurt. Weighing my options, I thought it would be better to do nothing at all. For awhile, I spent my time convincing myself how I had to choose, 'they deserved better', and they did._ But, dammit, I deserve better than two I have equal love for!_ But it was too late to go on together. It was better to go on alone, knew it. I sat down on the floor, right there. I needed to think.

With my head in my hands and my legs crossed, I pondered everything that had happened thus far. It seemed like it would be better to choose, at least give one of them a happy ending, but in truth, they would be better without me. I would just drag them down. Choosing one would always mean I'd want the other. I'd never be truly happy. I could never really love them the way they loved me, and the same would happen if I was any other girl. With that thought, I realized: _They would end up loving any girl they were put through this Hell with._ I clenched my fists, and stood up. I wasn't going to let them decide my future. I walked through the centre door, and opened it in a swift movement. With my hand of the door frame, I looked to the doors Art and Garry went through, and whispered my goodbyes.

"I'm sorry. This is goodbye."

The second I walked through the door, I was met by copies of myself all along the walls, each wearing my shocked expression. There were mirrors all through the room, which was a path that was seemingly endless, peering down the reflective tunnel.

I took a step through the mirrors, seeing the endless copies of myself from the mirror reflecting the opposing mirror's reflection of itself, and on and on through infinity. It chilled me to the bone for some reason, my hands shaking as I started walking. I kept my eyes forward, though my vision gave me a side view of the mirrors. I closed my eyes, but after walking straight forward for awhile in the darkness, I bumped into a mirror, as the tunnel came to a curve. I regretfully opened my eyes, seeing Mary's reflection copied a thousand times over, where I should have seen my own. I turned around, only to see her reflection on the opposite wall, wearing a calm expression very unlike my horrified face. I lifted a hand to my hair, holding up one of my own brown locks. I closed my eyes, shook my head, then blinked. Along the walls were my reflections.

I kept walking, keeping my eyes peeled. Often I looked back from mirror to mirror, not allowing myself to fall for the trick again. After a while I had to blink, and when I opened my eyes, Roslyn's reflection was running across the mirror. I turned around, hoping to see her, but I only saw my frightened and hopeful reflection staring back at me. I realized my hair was tousled, knotted, and my eyes were bloodshot and red. Other than their original colour, of course. I need rest, and dismissed my sightings as hallucinations.

I took an uneasy step forward, followed by another and another. I was shakily walking, all the horrors taking their's space on my mind. I stared at my feet, seeing the only part of the room that wasn't mirrored-thankfully-, the floor, seemed to be translucent. I instantly smoothed down my skirt, then realized it was gradually turning into a window. I looked up, and saw so were the walls and ceiling. I saw the many empty halls of the doors around me, and then Art in one of the far right halls. I immediately rushed to the wall and stared banging on the glass,calling out to him.

"Art! Art! Art, look over here!" He didn't seem to see me or hear me. He was walking forward, and I walked forward with him, waving my arms. A black door appeared, and as Art came close enough for contact, he opened the door without a second thought, and disappeared through the doorway. I stood, utterly still. I closed my eyes, and turned my head towards the left. I slowly opened my eyes, only to see Garry walking forward. I called his name, flailed my arms, I tried everything, but nothing worked. he didn't even turn his head. I walked with him as well, separated by sets of empty halls. Eventually, the Fabricated World painting appeared on the side of the hall. Without even thinking, Garry hopped through the painting like he had been expecting it. I fell to the floor. Without me walking forward, the walls darkened, returning to the mirrors and I was left staring at my pitiful self once again.

I slowly stood up, and lifted my head, dully staring forward. My eyes perked upon seeing Mary again, but as I saw her fighting Fake, I ran forward. There was door, and through the window of the wall, I saw Mary and fake. I opened the door, hoping to see Mary, eager to help. Instead, I saw four equal walls, painted black. A stool. A noose, hanging from the ceiling.

I had nothing to live for, I realized.

Everything I loved had left me. _No. I left them._

_And for what?_ I asked myself.

With shaking hands, I helped myself onto the stool, my unsteady legs lifting me to stand tall.

_For this._

I slipped the noose around my neck, closing my eyes.

_To end, utterly alone._

A tear escaped my closed eye.

_It's all your fault._

I kicked the stool away, and all my weight fell onto the noose at my neck.


	19. Ending V

**This is Mary's bad ending. Hope you like! ~ **

**ENDING V: Memory**

Before a thought about my choice even crossed my mind, I turned a full 180°, and started pacing back into the tunnels. I didn't want to think about who to choose, and I thought I had better exit the scene and clear my head before I made any outrageous decisions. As soon as I was submerged in the dark of the tunnels, I saw there was another path we hadn't seen, at an angle I could only see coming back from the hall of doors. My curiosity was piqued, and I walked through the new door. Instead of the winding tunnels I had been seeing frequently, it was one large room. Although I should have been happy, I didn't have to walk so much, once I saw the scene inside, I wanted to run away.

I remembered Mary's goodbye, and how she went behind us to do 'something she had to do'. At least we had parted on good terms. I had just wanted to be friends with her. There was always something in between us. Initially, the fact Garry didn't trust her in being a painting. 2/3 of the people I trusted were paintings. Then, it was her insanity. And again, it was her trying to protect me.

Mary and the Fake were struggling in the room. She probably entered through the door on the other side of the room, and maybe he followed her. Mary close to getting her knife to his throat many times, but her was too strong. It seemed Fake was winning. She would stab him, but it would just go into his stuffing, then come in contact with the statue part of him. Her attacks were useless. Fake had her back up against on of the large bookcases against the walls. These bookcases were taller than usual, reaching to the hard to spot ceiling. It was like a library, bookcases covering all of the walls. Mary held her knife close her face pale as Fake slowly took a step to her.

"Mary!" I called out. I was rooting for her, as well as screaming, wishing for her safety. Mary looked my way, her face brightening.

"Ib!" Her smile was cut short by Fake, in on movement, stealing control of her knife, directing it's path to it's owner's heart, and plunging the knife into Mary. Mary's body sunk to the floor, slowly sliding down and leaving a trail of blood behind her. There was still trace of the smile on her face. I stared at Mary's corpse for what seemed like eternity, but really only for a moment, before I looked to Fake's quickly spreading grin. I took a step back, he took a step forward, and a much larger step. The process repeated, him covering much more ground than I until we were inches apart. I took a shuddering breath, looked to Mary's body and her knife clutched in Fake's blood-soaked hand, then turned around and ran for it.

Fake would have had my neck in an instant had he not been surprised by my dash. I quickly ran for the hall with the doors, blood pumping through my ears as I literally ran for my life. Fake wasn't as agile on his feet as I was, and being half statue it was more effort to run fast. But he wouldn't have to catch his breath, so in long distance, he would win. It was a good thing I only had to sprint to a door. As soon as I burst into the hall, I skidded to my left to enter the closest door to me, which happened to be yellow. I slammed the door just in time to smash his face. I saw a key hole in the door, and quickly scoped the room for a key while Fake was busy with his most likely broken nose. As I saw the far wall, I stopped dead in my tracks.

It was a beautiful portrait of Roslyn, laying in a bed of lilac roses matching her life rose, which was plucked clean and held in her hand. I was so immersed in her beauty, it took me a moment to recognize the hand and familiar jacket sleeve. It wasn't Art, nor Garry, but Fake. He was holding Roslyn's pale dead hand. I realized it wasn't just a painting made by the gallery's imagination. It was Fake's funeral for Roslyn. As if to confirm my thoughts, I finally glanced at the plaque, with read 'Funeral'. I was taking in the full sight of the painting as Fake burst the door open, exposing blood freely flowing from his nose, and a scowl on his face.

"Bitch." He murmured. The knife in his hand was dripping with blood, it was the only thing I could see. Each single drip of blood falling into the quickly forming puddle on the floor. Each drop joining it's fallen siblings. I realized it wasn't my time. Mary wouldn't want me to go yet.

"Please...let me die on my own terms. It's not my time."

He only grinned. /\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I slit the girl's throat, chuckling as her body fell down. It was an action-packed day. Most days in the gallery were lonely, only a few visitors were fit to play with.

My chuckling stopped the moment I looked up, seeing Roslyn's memorial painting. I stepped over Ib's body, with the knife still lodged in her throat. I saw my hand in the painting, and my true hand seemed to be searching for her hand. I did love her. There was no doubt about it.

I turned around, and saw the knife in Ib's throat. I took the knife, and turned back to the painting. I took a breath, my eyes crawling over the painting. Once I exhaled, I launched my arm at the painting, my knife breaking the glass around the contact point and entering the canvas. I dropped my hand, letting go of the knife that was lodged at my painted hand. It was a disgrace to the painting.

And with that, I left the room.


	20. Ending VI

**Art's good end is here! I quite like this one. :3 A little of this is the same as in Art's bad end, so when you see the Japanese character, assume it's new from that point on. The same thing in Mary's and Garry's good ends, next.**

**ENDING VI: The Creative Spirit's Eye for Art**

I had an idea of who I wanted to follow by his last words, and headed towards his door before I had the chance to change my mind. I ran towards his door, a smile spreading my face. Thoughts of spending the rest of my life with him made me smile even more. I pulled the door open, and nearly screamed upon seeing Art waiting by the door. It was unexpected, but sweet. I could practically feel my love for him bursting out at the sight of his wide eyes and quickly spreading smile. He walked away from his resting place on the wall, and said my name.

"Ib..."

I threw my arms around him, and he held me close, almost hurting my by his grip. I'm sure my grip was just as strong, though. Art planted a kiss on my forehead.

"Art, I love you. I love you more than you know, more than I can comprehend. It was always there, and I only just realized it. I've been blind for so long. I'll scream it out loud, if you want me to, just so you can understand how much I love you." The words were rambling from my mouth. Before I could continue, I had to take a breath. Art spoke before I could finish.

"I've been waiting for you to say those three little words since I had met you, and now I feel I could die right now and I wouldn't mind. But also, I wouldn't mind if we could start a life together, either." His tone was questioning, and his face was staring at me with pure love, and hope. I looked at him with tears at the corners of my eyes, and gave him a soft kiss on his lips. He looked to me, a bit shocked and a blush spreading his face, before he looked at me with a loving smile.

"Of course. I'd love to, too. Once we get out of here, I have so many plans for us." Art's face fell. Before I could make a comment, he smiled again.

"Yep. C'mon." He held his hand out for me, and forgetting all of my suspicions, I took his hand with a smile.

"Oh, before I forget-" I said, digging my free hand into my pockets. Once I felt the petals of my rose, I pulled it out, holding my red rose out to Art. He seemed shocked.

"Really, Ib?" He took it as he spoke, looking down at the velvet petals. I nodded.

"I trust you." Art smiled up at me. He nodded, and pocketed the rose.

We held hands again, and walked forward. It was empty halls for a long while, and we chatted as we went. It was mostly me, telling him about my plans. He seemed to be a bit melancholy each time I mentioned my dream house, and college, and I was worried he didn't want the same life with me as I wanted with him. I didn't mention anything about it, though.

We walked through the halls in silence after I became worried, and paintings appeared as we passed. It was all random people committing suicide inside the gallery. My grip on Art's hand tightened, and he gave me a reassuring look. We passed two that looked like Art and I hanging ourselves. Art pulled me close, putting his arm around my shoulder as I lied my head on his chest. Listening to his calm heartbeat calmed my own.

"It's alright. We're obviously not dead, so all of these are probably fakes to scare us." I nodded. It made sense.

We walked forward, until we came to a large mural on the wall. It showed a collection of points in my life, my stuffed cat doll, my large collection of stuffed rabbits, my parents. The largest picture of me was me crying as a young girl with my hair in twintails, eyes puffed up and my eyes closed. My whole being went stiff. My breathing was forced, and hard to do. I began to shake, with the weight of breathing hard and my shivers.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

(新)

"Ib, look at me." I took Ib's shaking head and stared into her eyes.

"You have to hold on. For our future. Remember your dream? To settle down, have a daughter with your looks? Be an artist? You have to hold on for your dream! Believe me, you have to chase your dreams. I can't let you go. Not now. Not yet, and not here. Not ever. You can't Ib." I cried into Ib's chest, holding her by her shoulders. I felt her twirling my hair around her finger, and I looked up. She was looking at me with her loving eyes, a smile on her face. A blush crossed my face, and I stood straight up. Ib had a melancholy smile on her face, I realized. A stray tear slid down my cheek, and she burst into tears. I pulled her to me. She cried into my chest, and I cried onto her shoulder, leaning down.

Once we were emptied of tears, we stayed there, holding each other. We pulled apart, and I kissed Ib's hand, looking up into her eyes. I could feel blood rushing to my face. She was beautiful. As she was blushing, I put a kiss on Ib's nose. Ib giggled, and gave me a quick kiss, to which my blush grew. I smiled at her, then tilted her head, and leaned in. I smiled into the kiss. She weaved her fingers into my hair, pulling me in. I rested my hand on her hip, and gently pushed her to the wall, putting my hand to lean on by her head. We both broke away at the same time as if we had the same thought: 'We need to move on.' I opened my mouth just as Ib spoke.

"We should keep going on, you know." She was grinning. I nodded, silently laughing. She took my hand, and we started walking forward. We were walking for awhile, Ib telling me her wishes, and me telling her mine. Ib leaned on my shoulder, and wrapped her hands around my arm. We walked for awhile just talking until we found a black door. I opened it, expecting another tunnel. Not the Fabricated World painting. Ib perked up, and nearly ran towards it, until she saw my horrified expression.

"Art?"

"Ib...if I go through here, Garry is locked inside."

"..." I could tell Ib wanted to go, but she didn't want to trap Garry. There were other reasons I didn't want to go, but they seemed selfish, looking at Ib then.

I climbed up once the frame disappeared. I held my hand to Ib.

"Come on." I said, a small smile on my face. A tear ran down Ib's face, before she wiped it away and took my hand. I hoisted her up, and we were transported away.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"What happened? Why is this wrong? Why am I not back?" Ib's questions broke my heart.

We weren't back in the true gallery. We were in the first section Ib had ventured, coming through _Abyss of the Deep._

"I don't know, Ib." And I didn't. Usually, the _Fabricated World_ worked as a line segment, going between point A and B. But there was a new point once I got on.

"I think I'm the problem. If you want, you can still go. Be free. The painting is still there." The World was resting on the wall in the hall connecting the room holding the rose and the next door. Ib shook her head.

"If you don't mind, I'm staying with you." She gave me a soft smile. I smiled back.

"This place isn't too bad. Child's play." She understood what I was getting at.

"It's no dream house, but it's bigger than any mansion." She smirked.

"The only problem is the pests." We shared a laugh, and with light spirits, went off to go on our new adventure.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I looked at the painting, laying my head on my husband's shoulder. The new painting, '_Perfectly_ _Fine_' showing two corrupt roses, one red, one black, the stems intertwined. It was one of my favourites, although I couldn't even begin to wonder what it meant.


	21. Ending VII

**The ending I assume most of you have been waiting for! Garry's good ending! **

**ENDING VII: Freedom from the Tainted Mind**

I clenched my fists, and forced myself into making the decision. My eyes darted between the blue door Art went into, and the grey Garry chose. I closed my eyes, thinking over everything that had happened to that point. Garry's smile flashed in my mind, and I was reminded of every good thing he had done for me. Still, Art's delicate shyness-in some things-and how protective both of them were was driving me insane. I took a deep breath, and made my decision, knowing I'd be breaking a heart. I knew it would kill me inside, and I could only hope he understood. I took the steps toward the door my future lied behind, and began to hear my doubts voicing their opinions. I pushed the door open, knowing my doubts would only be put to rest once I officially made my decision, no going back.

He wasn't waiting outside the door, but that was hardly expected. I fruitlessly rearranged my hair just like a normal girl my age would before going on a date. I wondered if I could have been happy being normal. I wouldn't have to worry about dying at every twist and turn, instead I'd be worrying if my crush noticed me. It definitely seemed simpler. My hands fell to my sides, and I realized: Of course it's simpler. But it's not the life I want. My life's with him, now. It chilled me to the bone to finally admit it. It felt good. I took the first step towards him, quickly followed by another, and another. Eventually I was in a sprint, grinning my face off while closing the distance between us. The dark tunnels took my vision, but I ran straight ahead, which was the path the tunnel followed. After I began getting tired, I ran straight into him.

"Oof." He nearly lost his breath as I barreled into his back. He turned towards me, and with my butt on the floor, I looked up at him.

"Ib?" He called out into the dark. I could barely see his form, his lips faintly moving into a smile as he advanced towards me, scooping me into his arms. I buried my face in the crook of his neck, his violet hair tickling my skin. Garry. I loved him with every fiber of my being. Being there, with him, assured me I loved him.

"Garry... I...I love you." Garry only tightened his grip on me as if he would never let go.

"I know. I love you too, Ib." "No, you don't." I said. I had held it in enough. "You deserve to know. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I-" Garry cut me off with a kiss, which was passionate to the extent of my hands tangled in his violet hair, and his hands holding me close. We were perfect. Garry pulled away, having to take a breath. He dove in for another kiss, but I stopped him.

"We should go on. We have to keep moving." He reluctantly agreed. As we stood up, he held my hand. I wanted to be with him for eternity and on. With him, it felt so right.

_He is the original. _A voice from the back of my mind spoke.

"What?" I said, darting around. Garry put his hand on my shoulder.

"You alright?" I nodded, shrugging his hand off, then facing him with my best fake grin.

"Let's go on." I said, tugging on his hand.

_Any regrets? Wish you had chosen the painting?_

I shut my eyes, and pulled Garry along. My hands were shaking. I simply had to ignore it, then it's bone chilling voice would disappear. It's voice was even more macabre than it's words. It sounded like nails dragging across the surface of a chalkboard, murdering an elephant, or some large creature. My mind began weaving the mask the voice would take. It was the voice in my head, so some face to the voice could be somewhat comforting. I began to think of some mask a colour darker than black, and blood pouring out of the eye sockets. Not good. I pulled my thought into the direction of cute bunnies, and kittens. The chilling voice then possessed an innocent rabbit.

_Maybe it would be better without either of them._

_Having to chose between two men...you sure get around._

_Do you even love him at all, little whore?_

I was mentally throwing every curse word I knew at Bunny-Face inside my mind. Garry was peering into my face concernedly, but my focus was past his head. A small lamp above was illuminating the wall so you could see the display. It was a disturbing painting of a spider eating a butterfly. I never cared for butterflies, but it still gave me chills. I shook my head. I had seen it before, when I was much younger. No big deal.

"I'm fine, Garry. Honest." He looked at me suspiciously, but we went on smoothly. Before long, my foot caught on a mannequin head set on the floor. My nails on Garry's coat dug deeper. Garry didn't seem to notice, just gaze at a painting of a woman being slaughtered. I couldn't look. Unfortunately, when I looked the other direction, I saw the conclusion, her murderer burning in Hell, literally. As well as me brushing against a statue. My gaze quickly shifted to the other wall, which showed a picture of the Lady in Red, AKA Catori. It was horrible seeing her after her death.

_You never loved him, and never will. __And stop trying to convince yourself that you're sane. Don't bother._

My eyed darted from one gruesome painting to the next.

_I know just how to make you..._

I gripped my hair with my free hand as I sunk to the floor.

_Crack_.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Ib was acting strange. I pretended not to notice her sharp nails grasping my coat for support, because if I had tried to ask her what was going on, she would have brushed me off, like my previous attempts. When her grip slackened, I glanced her way. Her eyes were dull, and she was sitting on the floor, legs sprawled out, and her hand in mine. I saw her back quivering, and I assumed it was her shivering until I heard her soft chuckle. Her entire being was being shaken by the desperate maniacal chuckle of the insane. _No_, no, no no no no no! Ib can't do this. I should have noticed, her strange behaviour. Something must have done this. She was just fine! A thought nagged at my mind. I wondered if this would have happened had she chosen Art. I fell to my knees, my hand in hers.

(新)

Ib stood up, and grabbed the Lady in Red painting from the wall.

"...Ib?" I made out before she smacked me with the painting, giggling. I could feel it break skin. I took the painting from her hands and pulled her to sit down with me on the floor. I wondered if I could talk her out of it when she was so far gone.

"Ib...don't leave me. Don't leave this world. Because while we are in this Hell, we still have a chance to be free." I put my hands on shoulders.

"To return to our home." I said what I felt she needed to hear. I was shaking her shoulders at this raised her head to look at me, and I recognized the slightest twinkle in her eyes. I was reaching her.

"We will escape. We will make it out. But we can only do that if you stay with me!" Ib blinked, once, twice, then looked down. The madness seemed to stop it's take over, and then she seemed lost, harmless. Not insane, and not Ib. I took her hand again, releasing her shoulders. I cupped her hand in mine.

"We can make it out of here if you return to me, Ib."

Ib looked up, her eyes in their former glory. She threw her arms around my neck, leaning her head on my chest. After I overcame the initial shock, I held her tight. Ib pulled from me, as if she just registered the blood running down my cheek. She touched the wound as I tried not to flinch, peering at the blood with a sad expression. She reached into her pocket, taking her handkerchief out. White lace, and her name embroidered into the corner. She dabbed at my wound just before I could complain about ruining her kerchief. I closed my mouth, then smiled through the pain at her furrowed brow and worried expression.

"Did I do this?" She murmured. I nodded. She closed her eyes in acceptance, then put her handkerchief in my hand with a broad smile.

"Ib, I can't take it from you! I already ruined it with my blood, I can't steal it, too!" Ib only smiled. She settled back into hugging me, and I placed the kerchief in my pocket, then drew my arms around her.

I planted a kiss on her cheek, and she replied with a kiss on my lips. It was meant to be quick, but I kept her in the lip-lock, my hand gently holding her head. The kiss became deeper, her seated on my hips with her legs tucked behind her so our feet were intertwined, her hands holding my face. My tongue eventually demanded entrance into her mouth. She pulled away quickly, looking at me, shocked. Her face was flushed pink, and soft smile played my lips. She was too cute.

Soon enough, Ib settled back on my hips, and gave me a long, simple kiss. She stood up, and I remained in place. Ib turned around and looked at me curiously, and offered me a hand. I grinned, then took her hand up.

Ib still seemed herself, but a bit out of sorts. I put my arm around her shoulder and pulled her towards me, and we walked together.

Eventually, we came across a black door. Ib and I glanced at each other, then I opened it. Once I saw inside, I nearly broke from Ib and ran to the painting. Once Ib did, she did run off to the painting. She traced the engravings on the frame, ran her hand on the glass. I walked over, gazing at all of it's glory. _The Fabricated World_. The beginning and end of the puzzle. Our gate out of Hell.

Ib took my hand, and we smiled at each other. The frame disappeared and the painting turned into a portal, and I climbed up. I hoisted Ib up, and she looked around the room once more before we were transported back to the gallery, hand in hand.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I shook my head, coming out of my deep thinking from staring at the sculpture '_Embodiment of Spirit_'. It brought me a bit of melancholy, for a strange reason. The red hue was...familiar. I slipped back into my deep thinking, digging my hands into my pockets. I felt something foreign in my pocket, and I gripped the expensive fabric and drew it from my pocket. It was an expensive custom-embroidered lace handkerchief. It probably cost more than the most expensive article of clothing I owned. There were blood stains. I looked over to the word embroidered I hadn't had a chance to look over, only notice. _Ib_.

Ib.

_Ib_!

The image of her face as she wiped the blood from my face appeared in my mind. The image of her blushing after we kissed. then less savory memories...the rest of the gallery, happy parts aside. It was crazy, but it had to be real.

I pocketed the handkerchief, and ran out of the bottom floor, knowing where she would be. I ran to where the Art's portrait was-I had never seen it, but I had enough sense to figure it was where the only painting I had looked at before the Fabricated World and then Abyss of the Deep. In it's place was Art, holding his empty hands out. There was the slight outline of hands over top his. Ib's hands. The plaque read '_Alone_' In front of the painting, Ib was holding her hands over her heart.

"Art..."

She whispered. I put my hand on her shoulder. She turned around with wild eyes that calmed once she recognized me.

"Ib...do you need a moment?"

She shook her head, then rested her head on my chest. We had a nice few seconds, remembering Art-I never really liked him but he was good to Ib- until the man looking at 'Couplet Towers' looked between me and Art.

"Hey...you look exactly like the painting." Ib's eyes widened. I stuttered a response.

"Uncanny resemblance?" Ib tugged on my sleeve, her gaze resting on Art. She wanted to leave, but she didn't want to leave Art.

"Come on." Ib looked at Art awhile longer, then looked up and me and nodded.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I held my first born child in my arms. I held her tight. I never wanted to let her go, ever. She was beautiful, she was perfect. Garry had his hand on my shoulder, and he crouched down to get to eye-level. He ran his hand through our daughter's newly cleaned blonde wisps of hair, and she opened her eyes. Her eyes were bright red, like mine.

"Alice." I decided.

"She's-Alice's perfect." Garry planted a kiss on my forehead.

The moment was perfect, and my world was complete.


	22. Ending VIII

**Mary good ending! I think it's pretty cute. Hope you guys like as much as I do. **

**ENDING VIII: Together, Forever** Before a thought about my choice even crossed my mind, I turned a full 180°, and started pacing back into the tunnels. I didn't want to think about who to choose, and I thought I had better exit the scene and clear my head before I made any outrageous decisions. As soon as I was submerged in the dark of the tunnels, I saw there was another path we hadn't seen, at an angle I could only see coming back from the hall of doors. My curiosity was piqued, and I walked through the new door.

Instead of the winding tunnels I had been seeing frequently, it was one large room. Although I should have been happy I didn't have to walk so much, once I saw the scene inside, I wanted to run away.

I remembered Mary's goodbye, and how she went behind us to do 'something she had to do'. At least we had parted on good terms. I had just wanted to be friends with her. There was always something in between us. Initially, the fact Garry didn't trust her in being a painting. 2/3 of the people I trusted were paintings. Then, it was her insanity. And again, it was her trying to protect me.

Mary and the Fake were struggling in the room. She probably entered through the door on the other side of the room, and maybe he followed her. Mary close to getting her knife to his throat many times, but he was too strong. It seemed Fake was winning. She would stab him, but it would just go into his stuffing, then come in contact with the statue part of him. Her attacks were useless. Fake had her back up against on of the large bookcases against the walls. These bookcases were taller than usual, reaching to the hard to spot ceiling. It was like a library, bookcases covering all of the walls. Mary held her knife close her face pale as Fake slowly took a step to her.

(新)

I quietly but quickly made my way to Fake, edging just out of his vision until I was in contact. I used all of my strength and shoved Fake to the side, catching him off guard so he stumbled, out of balance. Mary took the opportunity, and ran to him. She used her palette knife and sliced the seams where he was connected, so his stuffing instantly came out. It seemed to be like blood to him, and so the Fake Garry was dead.

I turned to Mary with a grin, and was overwhelmed by her hug.

"Ib! I missed you so much! That was the business I had, but I guess you've taken care of it for me. That kinda defeats the purpose..." She nearly crushed my ribs, hugging the breath out of me.

"Mary, I'm just happy you're okay. Did he randomly attack you? Or did you confront him?" I saw her sheepish face and assumed the worst, which also happened to be the truth.

"Mary, if I hadn't been there you might've been hurt." I pulled her from me, holding her by the shoulders an arm's length away.

"But you _were_ there! And so it was worth it! I can really trust you." She seemed ecstatic, her eyes widened to the max.

"Of course you can trust me, Mary. You just can't depend on my all the time. I can't do everything."

"I know. Anyway, let's move on, big sis. I have a secret to show you!" I raised my eyebrow the nickname. I wasn't even sure I was older than her. Obviously, for years 'alive', Mary beat me for the oldest. But depending on how old Guertena envisioned Mary, I would have to be default oldest.

"Yep, let's go." Mary smiled. If anything, Mary acted a lot younger than she was, and than how I acted. Mary lead me-or rather, pulled me-through the tunnel, with a clear destination in mind. Whenever I tried to talk, Mary would cut me off, and tell me to hush. (Big surprise, me going out of the way to talk then getting denied.)Soon enough we arrived at her destination, a black door. Mary made drumroll sounds, and apparently I opened the door too soon. 'No, you open the door on the last beat!' Mary had to restart her drumroll multiple times until I got it right and I was allow to see inside the room. My jaw nearly dropped once I saw the painting inside, and then I rushed up, happily examining it.

"The Fabricated World looks even more amazing each time I see it." I said in awe, and Mary shrugged.

"So, you may need to know this. If two people who travel with my friend FB who have alternate wishes for their destinations, it will end somewhere in the middle. If you're alone or with a person with the same will, you'll end up where you want to. It's kind of a teleporter for the entire gallery. Art pieces can't travel unless they take the spot of someone else. Still want to go?" Her face fell with a realization. "Of course I don't have to go with you if you don't want, I just assumed..." She hastily added. "Mary...don't be silly." I laughed. "Of course. You're coming with me. I'm willing to accept the consequences." Mary smiled. "Then come on!" Mary hopped into the canvas, and I climbed up behind her. We didn't need to discuss our destination. _The true gallery. Outside._ /\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\ "Hey Ib! Where's the chocolate milk?" Mary called from the kitchen, while I was playing a shooting game. "Right where you left it! _Headshot_!" "IB!" I sighed, pausing my game and standing up, going off to help Mary find her milk. Once I saw her face, I doubled over laughing. "If you're-looking-for your-your milk-check you face, milk mustache!" I lost my control and fell to the floor in giggles while Mary frowned and cleaned her face. After I had hurt my gut from laughing, I lay there on the floor. Mary soon came back, and as I was laying on the floor, vulnerable, she attacked me, tickling me on my sides until I vowed to pay her to stop. "I'll give-you-three cents- if you- stop!" I said in between giggles. "How about ten dollars?" "F-five dollars and-three cents?!" The tickles grew less frequent, and Mary stopped completely, happy with the compromise. I scurried up, and away from Mary, making a farting sound from my stuck-out tongue as I ran away. "You never shook on it!" I said as Mary ran towards me and tackled me. "You little bitch!" Mary said, sitting on me. I began to try to push her heavy body off of my stomach as a knock sounded on our apartment door. Mary sprinted off of me and I immediately chased after her, trying to reach the door first. It ended up being a tie once Mary had to edge around the chair taking up space on the way from the kitchen to the door. We didn't even waste time calling who won the race to open the door. We enveloped the woman at the door in a hug. It was my mother. I dug my nose into chest, taking in her scent. I missed her. "How is living alone, my dears?" "Eh." "It's okay." Mary and I looked at each other, both of us wearing poker faces, until I cracked, and began laughing. "It's great, mom." Mary agreed. Mother smiled. "Good. I want my two beautiful daughters to be happy."

"We love you, mother." Mary and I chimed in unison.


	23. Ending IX

**This is the last alternate ending of our fanfiction, and so our journey is over. TT^TT I had a lot of fun writing for you guys, and reading all the reviews. :) I have the best fans anyone could ask for! Reviews and favourites are still loved. Earlier I said there would be ten, but it turns out there is only nine. But what else I said still stands, and that is that this was my favourite one to write. And without further adieu, the last ending!**

**ENDING IX: Beautifully Insane** I wasn't even thinking about Art or Garry as I stared at the red door, an X painted on. Of course I was affected by the two deserting me to decide, but that wasn't on my mind. I tilted my head, trying to figure out why it was so tempting. I closed my eyes, and turned away. Still the X was burned in my mind. Finally, allowed to see where it lead. My hand resting on the door knob, I excitedly wondered what was behind the door. Once I opened the door, my shoulders sagged to see nothing but tunnels. Still, following them seemed like a better idea than forcing myself to choose.

I lazily walked through the tunnels, taking my time in looking at the occasional painting. My favourite was one showing a timeline of someone's life, going through the years in the format human evolution from primates was shown, in a line. The last part of the timeline showed a gravestone, and the first an infant. _Evolution_, read the plaque.

I walked through the tunnels when I grew bored, and after that, when I felt sick. Only when I felt I couldn't go on did a door finally appear, and the tunnel's end was found. I opened the door, only pausing to look inside onceI had neatly closed the door and sat on the floor, leaning against the wall. There were piles of books app around me, and a painting on the far end of the room. It showed a mask, a colour that seemed even deeper than black. The eye sockets were leaking blood. It was enough to freak anyone out. I could read the name, '_The Voice Inside Our Minds_'. To divert my mind from the painting, I took one of the books from the pile closest to me. I opened it to a random page, and read the first line.

'_The Voice has the capability to enter a person with the potential of insanity's mind, and gradually worsen their condition. In many cases, he has driven people to kill others, or themselves. He has the capability to appear out of his frame as a whole being, and to read minds to better understand how to drive someone off the edge. I fear for my own sanity.'_

It was a book on the painting, by Weiss himself. I set the book back on top of the pile, unnerved by the 'Voice.'

I picked up another book. It was titled 'Insanity'.

'_Those at the edge of insanity can often create situations of their minds, like life-long wishes being granted. This will put the spirit to rest as they slip into madness.'_

I put the book down, perhaps more unnerved.

_Let me redirect your thought flow. Did you know your parents have completely forgotten about you? They could come here and not even think you familiar. _

I shook my head. It had decided to visit me.

_In the end I suppose you don't care about that. You'd rather be off alone, killing ruthlessly, wouldn't you? _

_You are a nothing. A freak. A weirdo._

_Your own mother wants to change you. You were never good enough for her, for anyone. _

_Those men you've got twisted around your finger are blind. They share a brain, and that brain believes you are their hero. Nothing more. _

_You are worthless._

Tears were falling down my cheeks. He was right. Images flowed through my mind, a fast tracked slideshow designed to make me crack. The mask. A wilted rose. A computer screen with digits running down. A my mother's corpse, ruthlessly murdered. My father. A knife falling down, me falling off a cliff. A hand reaching out for me, but too late to catch me. It was too much.

I felt hands shaking me, trying to wake me from the dullness. I looked up and saw yellow hair and blue eyes, and the girl pulled me into a hug. She was saying something I could barely comprehend, but didn't cared about.

"Ib...saw you through the glass...didn't respond...came here...too late!"

But I didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I woke up, my eyes revealing a strange place. I instantly tried to sit up, but I was halted by tubes covering and entering my veins and body, and the fact I couldn't sit up. I looked around, laying my head back down. Just the little movement was hard to take. I was in a hospital. The gown was familiar, and the smell sickening, yet clean. I wanted out.

My mother was in the corner of the room. I could hear her sobs. I lazily turned my head towards her, and mouthed the words 'Mom? Why are you crying?' Through the mask on my face. Suddenly, she lifted her head, and seeing me awake rushed to my side. Her face was all red from her crying, her cheeks glistening with tears.

"Ib. My sweet daughter, why did this happen to you?"

"Mom." I whispered. She pulled the mask from my face, and the cold air made it harder for me to breath. I made no complaint, however.

"What did happen?" I muttered, trying to stay conscious.

My mother began hurriedly explaining, but all I really understood was, 'Coma since you were nine...car accident...on way to gallery for your birthday.'

The darkness was closing in fast. My mother shook me by my shoulders, wanting to talk more. It slightly woke me up, returning my alertness.

"Where's Mary? Bring me Garry, and Art. Where are they?" I asked, my grogginess returning.

The ends of my vision was fading, but I swore I saw a yellow head of hair being pushed on a stretcher through the door when my father entered. I tried to sit up, seeing the familiar head of hair, but it was too hard. My father walked to my bedside, blocking my view of the closing door. I looked up at his blank gaze as I heard the door shut. His blank stare broke, and turned sorrowful.

"You could have been great." He said. _Is this really all there is for me?_ I was confused, and only wanted to go _back_ into the gallery. With the people I loved.

I nearly put my head down and closed my eyes again, but I saw the familiar silhouette of Art-or Garry-in the window from the edge of my vision. I turned my head to look straight on, but he left, his coat trailing behind him and out of view.

"Ib, calm down. We're right here."

Art was out of sight, but I saw the blue rose in the vase on the table. Beside it was the blue doll that habited the gallery. I took it from the vase, and held it close. Wistfully, I said,

"See? He's real. Garry's rose is here." My mother sighed. She took the rose from my grasp, gazing at the petals.

"I gave this to you. Who are you talking about? You don't know a Garry."

The dark at the end of my sight took over, and my head dropped to the pillow. I slipped back asleep, back to my dream gallery.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I felt Mary's hand connect with my cheek, and I blinked. It hurt of course, but I was more concerned on why she would do it.

"Mother..." Seeing my mother again had it's affect on me. Mary puled me into a hug, sobbing tears of joy. I gently hugged her back, letting tears fall from my cheeks onto Mary's shoulder.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

I opened my eyes to see my nothing but mother's shoulder and feel her arms wrapped around me. The entire thing was too much, switching between worlds. I drew my arms around my mother. My mother only held me tighter, realizing I was awake. My hand brushed her jacket pocket, and I instantly remembered my mother kept a sewing kit in her jacket pocket at all times. I slyly removed the sewing ket and stashed it under the covers before my mother noticed. I pulled back, softly smiling to my mother.

"Could you let me get some rest, Mother?" She smiled, nodded, then left the room.

With a shaking hand, I opened the sewing kit a drew the miniature sewing scissors. I located the tube connected to my body that fed the liquids into my IV, and snipped the chord with the consequences fully in mind. I figured it would be better. Either I'd return to Mary, or my I'd be free. My mind became groggy, and it was hard to stay awake. The IV bag was emptied onto the floor, and my veins were exposed to the air. My mind slowed, and the only thing I could barely focus on was the heart rate monitor slowly coming to a stop.

**If you didn't pick up the hints, maybe read over it again, and then you won't be so pissed at me! ~**


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